


Hope of Morning

by I_Am_Bella_Donna



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Blood, Dark Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Derealization, Ducking Out (Sanders Sides), Food, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Bella_Donna/pseuds/I_Am_Bella_Donna
Summary: “When the hope of morning starts to fade in me, I don’t dare let darkness have its way with me.”Logan, Roman, and Patton were all left reeling after the disastrous events of April 13. With seemingly no better options in sight, the three of them took drastic measures in an attempt to make life better for Thomas and the other Sides.But when all the light is gone, how does one find their way out of the dark?
Comments: 82
Kudos: 79





	1. Drastic Measures

**Author's Note:**

> Story Theme Song: Hope of Morning by Icon For Hire
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Sanders Sides or any of its characters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbeknownst to each other, Logan, Roman, and Patton all make a dark choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: FOOD MENTION, SELF-HATRED
> 
> Chapter Theme Song: Close the Door by Beth Crowley

There were only three steps.

On one hand, this made the process simple, and almost scarily so. Only three, easy actions needed to be taken, and _boom_ —it was done. Of course, the effects would not appear right away—like any good medicine, it took some time for the so-called benefits to become noticeable—but in due time, it would become impossible to remain ignorant of what had occurred. It was like the famous frog-in-the-pot metaphor—no one knew what was happening until it had already happened.

On the other hand, however, the steps themselves were rather taxing to complete. Not physically so—theoretically, they could all be completed without incident in a quick and timely manner, which would, in turn, allow for faster results. It sounded simple. Actually performing the actions, however, was far more tedious. For one thing, it required copious amounts of mental and emotional energy. Mustering up the willpower to complete the process was far more difficult in practice.

Even worse, or better, perhaps, depending on one’s view of it, was the fact that there were only two who were actually aware of the full process. That had never been a problem in the beginning—back then, no one had ever needed to perform or even think about performing such actions. As a matter of fact, no one had even allowed their minds to wander in that direction.

But recently, things changed. Someone attempted to actually do the unspeakable. To actually complete the process.

It didn’t work. 

Later, everyone would be grateful for the error; for the lack of knowledge and for the mistake that had transpired. Later, they would discuss what had occured, and why it failed to work. Of course, the two who were actually aware of the full process would never share the missing information—it had been attempted once, after all. No one was able to promise that it would never be attempted again, and with knowledge of the full requirements, the process would be almost irreversible. Thus, the withholding of information acted as a failsafe of sorts.

But life has no guarantees, and in the end, all it took was a little logic to figure out what went wrong with the attempted process. A little creativity to devise a better, more permanent solution. And no one had ever questioned what would happen to the duo who was already aware of the full process. No one ever wondered what failsafes were in place for them, should things get bad.

No one had ever expected things to get this bad.

But now, there was a trio certainly desperate enough to resort to such drastic measures, and the only things stopping them were three short steps.

* * *

_“Not that any of you care, but I am unharmed, and I don’t want to talk about it. I’m just here to deliver one last fact, then I will do you all a favor and spare you my company.”_

One last fact. 

Logan had chosen his last words very carefully beforehand. He wanted to provide something important; information that the others could use for years to pass. If he was honest with himself, then he would have admitted that he had wanted to give the others something useful to remember him by.

And then Patton had interrupted him.

_“Oh, Logan, I—”_

Not only had Patton interrupted him—he had sounded _worried_. Sounded pitying, as though he was not cutting him off _again_ ; sounded concerned, as though he had not just tried to _physically shut him up_ less than an hour ago.

He had sounded like a lot of things, and if Logan was being honest with himself, then he would have admitted it stung that _sorry_ wasn’t one of them.

On the other hand, Roman hadn’t sounded like anything. He hadn’t even spoken directly to Logan for most of the video, excluding his initial…reaction to Logan. Other than that, their only major interaction was when Roman _pulled his sword on him_. Logan was not sure if that hurt less or more than Patton’s insincere words. 

Surprisingly, Deceit had been the only Side with the decency to look somewhat ashamed of his own actions. On one hand, that shame meant that he knew his actions toward Logan were wrong—but on the other hand, it also meant that he knew they were wrong, but chose to do them anyway.

If Logan was being honest with himself, then he would have admitted that it was not normal to be as emotionless as he was. That it should not always take an internal battle to muster up a smidge of happiness or anger—that he should be able to _feel_ without such prompting.

That wasn’t to say that he didn’t feel anything at all. Physically, he was fine. His nerve endings, for example, were working adequately. He was capable of experiencing sensations such as touch and taste in a typical manner. But emotionally….

Despite what the others thought, he never actually _lied_ about his emotions. Technically, he did not experience emotions as often as the others did, if at all. That being said, he was not completely forthright either—he did not want to say that, recently, more often than not, he spent his days simply going through the motions; trapped in a numb state of mind as his body worked on its own. 

_“I feel like ‘which event could cost us more to miss?’ is a less interesting question than ‘which event has more to offer us?’ Don’t you?”_

_“…I don’t feel anything.”_

_“Oh, of_ course _you don’t.”_

Deceit had actually detected his lie of omission at the trial and confronted him about it afterward, asking Logan why he was so adamant on lying to himself about his feelings. Of course, Logan knew that Deceit’s abilities could not detect any details about the lie, and he had refused to reveal that he had not been conveying a falsehood.

Thinking about the other Side drew his attention back to the aching bruises on his neck. Times like this made Logan wish that he was physically numb as well. It was painful to do so much as turn his head to the side; to nod or shake; to move it in any way, really. Unfortunately, this made it harder to complete the first step of ducking out.

_Step one: Gather all personal belongings and necessities._

Now, standing in the kitchen, his fingers were ghosting against the cool surface of a jar of Crofters. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around most of the containers in the pantry and carrying them back to his room. He returned a second time in search of other food items from each of the other food groups. He also grabbed utensils and water bottles—refillable ones that could be filled with tap water when he ran out. Once he ran out of food, he would have to summon some more in his Mindscape. 

Food summoned in one of their personal Mindscapes was nothing compared to food summoned in the Light and Dark Mindscapes, but it would soon be all he had. 

Returning his chosen food items, drinks, and utensils to his room, he began to do one last sweep of the Light Mindscape. He gathered all his books and notes from the kitchen, dining room, hallways, living room—

Oh.

Logan’s attention caught on a familiar, beige-colored book that was placed precariously on the edge of the sofa. 

_What If? Serious Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions_. 

Setting everything down on the counter, he slowly walked over, fingers tracing the paper jacket as a memory bubbled up inside him. One of the few recent memories where happiness had managed to break through his emotionless spiel—reading with Remus in his Mindscape. 

Just like how Virgil was able to detect fears and Deceit was able to detect lies, the Duke was capable of detecting when someone was thinking about creatively dark subjects. And this book was _nothing_ if not creatively dark.

Logan, however, had not been bothered by it—he had actually been enjoying himself for once. The morbid yet entertaining questions had made for interesting mental debates. Once Remus had appeared, he immediately zeroed in on the book, and the duo ended up discussing it for hours.

It was actually one of the only recent times he remembered someone allowing him to talk for hours unbridled; letting him speak freely without interrupting or scorning him. Patton and Roman had—well, they had proved their opinions on him today. Deceit wasn’t much better, keeping in mind the trial, as well as the numerous other times he had forcefully shut him up during arguments in the Mindscape. Serenity never interrupted him, but the two of them hardly interacted at all. And Virgil—

_“Shut up or I will shut you up!”_

_“I’m gonna prohibit your_ breathing _if you keep this up!”_

—could be very…stubborn…when he was in fight or flight mode. It was not technically his fault, but that did not mean it hurt any less. 

But Remus? Never once in Logan’s memory could he recall the other ignoring him. Whenever he provided information, the Duke was perfectly content to listen—even if he did try and put his own twisted spin on it. He still _listened_ , and that was more than anything the others did. In return, Logan tried to lend an open ear as often as possible, seeing as the dark words and actions Remus displayed never bothered him, emotionless state or otherwise. 

It was difficult for him to access the feeling on a regular basis, but he knew that he loved the other Light Sides. However, in regards to Remus, he could not help but feel a unique spark of appreciation for the other. A sense of gratefulness he never knew he was even capable of feeling. Now, a ghost of the feeling swirling inside him, Logan hesitantly placed the book back on the sofa, positioning it so that it would not fall off. He pulled a piece of spare paper from his pocket, as well as the ballpoint pen he always carried on him, and wrote out a quick note.

Well, it was originally _supposed_ to be quick, but ended up much longer than expected. Nonetheless, he wrote it out as fast as possible, wanting to quickly head back to his room. If he had not been in such a hurry, he might not have used the words he did. If he had not been so numb, he might have felt embarrassment curling up inside him. However, at the moment, nothing mattered other than putting the truth onto paper.

Scribbling a messy signature on the bottom of the page, Logan placed it inside the book, the edge of the paper sticking out slightly. Sighing, he did one last scan of the Light Mindscape as he tucked his pen back into his pocket. This was it. He had gathered everything he owned. Everything he wanted to keep, as well as everything he might need, had already been put in his room or his personal Mindscape.

If he was being honest with himself, he may have admitted to feeling the faint pang of nervousness break through his barriers. He may have admitted that he felt a rare spark of love for the others tingle inside him—the faint sense of wanting to stay. He may have admitted to himself that he did not even truly want to leave.

But Logan was not honest with himself, so he entered his room and shut the door.

* * *

Roman should have ducked out long ago. 

Really, it had been rather selfish of him to stay for as long as he had—and Patton didn’t approve of selfishness. At the end of the day, it did not matter what anyone else thought. _Patton_ was the important one. _Patton_ was the one whose opinion he valued.

_“It’s a stupid name.”_

_“Did you forget that he’s_ evil _?”_

Of course, after everything Roman had done and said that day, Patton probably had no respect left for him—as a matter of fact, he had no respect for himself, either.

But maybe, just _maybe_ , this would redeem himself in the eyes of the other Sides—maybe even in the eyes of Thomas. Patton and Thomas were the only ones whose opinions really mattered to him, and they hated selfishness. Maybe they would appreciate this.

They _would_ appreciate this.

Right?

Well, he had _thought_ they approved of selflessness—they used to, before that slimy snake arrived and Roman got scolded for not being selfless enough. Now, however, he got scolded for not being _selfish_ enough. He didn’t know which way was right anymore….

_“I felt forsaken. You were saying that we both have lost our way.”_

_Without Patton and Thomas, I don’t know what’s right anymore…._

He swallowed hard and clenched his hands into fists. It wasn’t _fair_! He had worked so hard to do what was right, and Deceit—no, apparently _Janus_ —just came in and ruined everything—and somehow, it was always _Roman’s_ fault! 

Patton had not disagreed when Janus said Roman was just like Remus. Thomas didn’t say anything either. And why should they have? Criticizing Deceit’s— _Janus’s_ —name was a cruel move on his part, worthy of the worst of Disney villains. It just proved what Roman had been trying to deny for a long time:

No matter how much he might want to be, he wasn’t a prince. 

He would never be a prince.

He was selfish, and unworthy, and cruel, and…

…and ducking out was the best solution he could think of.

Maybe this would finally make the other Sides happy. Thomas would have Dece— _no! Janus!_ —to help him achieve his hopes and dreams. Ironically, he had been more supportive of Thomas than Roman himself had been. Roman hurt him by making him go to the wedding. On the other hand, De— _Janus!_ —had been pushing Thomas to go to the callback—to work on achieving his _dream_ —from the very start. Thomas would no doubt be thrilled for Janus to be in charge of his hopes and dreams from now on.

Virgil would probably be relieved as well. Roman knew that the relationship between the pair had improved greatly since his…attempt to duck out…but on rough days, they generally went straight back to square one, with Roman as the villain in disguise. He had refused to admit it in the past, but that was the truth. For years, Roman had antagonized and hurt Virgil. Because of him, everyone almost ended up losing the youngest. It had not been until Virgil had ducked out that Roman had learned the truth—he was the _real_ villain of the story.

After he realized this, he worked so, so hard to change his ways—new costume, less insults, more cooperation—and for months, he was happy with his new self. He had assumed that he had been improving; becoming less toxic; becoming the prince he claimed to be.

Then Dece— _Janus! Janus Janus Janus!_ —showed up.

And so did Remus.

_“I feel like I was struck by a…realization.”_

He didn’t matter.

It was actually rather embarrassing, in retrospect. He should have known that the others did not care for him—after all, according to Logan, he was worth half a percent of Thomas’s time. 

Half a percent.

Seven freaking minutes a day. 

That was less time than Logan allotted Thomas for brushing his teeth—a quarter of the time, actually. Since when did dental hygiene take twenty-eight minutes?

Either way, he doubted either Logan or Virgil would miss him very much. And the Dark Si—the Others? D— _Janus! J-A-N-U-S!_ —would probably not care. Remus already hated him—giving him a morning star to the head made that _very_ clear—and would probably be ecstatic at a chance to have full creative control. And Serenity hardly spoke to him at all.

Roman bit his lip and looked around his room. Usually it was his safe haven—his own little slice of heaven—but right now, it just seemed to be a reminder of his gargantuan failures. It felt like way too much, being surrounded by everything that made him who he was. It was _disgusting_. 

He didn’t deserve any of this. It was all a waste.

Just. Like. Him.

But, in all honesty, it was probably better that all of his belongings were in his room, with him, rather than scattered around the Light Mindscape. This way, the others didn’t have to put up with any reminders of him. It was better this way.

Taking a deep breath, Roman closed his eyes and sunk out, rising up in a larger setting that was nearly identical to Thomas’s living room. But more…red. And with far more Disney-themed decorations.

His personal Mindscape.

_Step two: Lock personal Mindscape._

A bittersweet smile grew on Roman’s face as he thought about what he was about to do. Once upon a time, he had planned on eventually bringing Thomas here. He would show him his collection of all the scripts Thomas had ever performed; his recordings of all the songs Thomas had ever sang. He had wanted to show Thomas all the memories that made his heart swell with pride. After all, he was so, _so_ proud of his Manifestor—so proud of everything he’d accomplished—and he wanted Thomas to know that.

And maybe, just maybe, a part of him wanted to hear that in return.

Not that it mattered anymore. 

With a resounding click that seemed to echo through his Mindscape, Roman mentally locked it. Shut it off from the rest of the Mindscape. Like all Mindscapes, his could only be accessed through rising up, and he had just forbidden anyone from rising up from anywhere but his own room. 

Roman was alone, and not just physically. He had been rejected by the two people who mattered the most to him, and replaced by the very person whom he had been scolded for helping in the past.

_“What else do I need to figure out?”_

_“Biggest fear?”_

It was over.

_“Rejection!”_

D— _no! Janus! His! Name! Is! Janus! Not Deceit, you stupid moron! Can you seriously not do_ anything _right?_ —would help Thomas. He would do a better job than Roman ever could.

Taking a deep breath, Roman sunk back out into his room. Step two was complete.

* * *

Patton could not believe it. He was wrong.

Everything he had done, everything he had _tried_ to do…it was all wrong.

He was Morality.

And he was wrong. 

Patton could feel several emotions bubbling up inside him, none of them good. Anger, at himself, burning and frying his insides. Sadness, chilling his heart, cutting into the tender, beating muscle like a frozen blade. Shame and guilt, powerful twins that were capable of weakening even the strongest of monsters, lay curled up within him, pulsing painfully with each shaky breath. It was all well-deserved, but that did not make it any less painful.

On the stove in front of him was an unusually large pot of pasta—his signature recipe. It was one of the few dishes that everyone in the Mindscape—both the Light and Dark halves—could agree tasted amazing. It was simply another fact of life. The sky was blue. Thomas was the Manifestor. Patton made the best pasta. 

Unfortunately, he realized with a pang in his heart, this would be the last time he would ever get to cook anything for the others. However, he was leaving all his recipes behind for them, neatly copied in a powder blue binder and placed on top of the refrigerator. Virgil enjoyed helping him make food, and Roman, Deceit, and surprisingly, Remus, were all pretty good at cooking—well, Remus only when he agreed not to add in anything odd or poisonous, which was rare, but he had his moments—surely they could handle it on their own.

Right?

_Right?_

Of course they could. And it was better for Thomas overall, wasn’t it? Patton was being too overbearing—too strict—and he was only hurting the others. He was giving Virgil extra stress, he was overriding Logan, and he was freaking _manipulating_ Roman! He didn’t mean to do any of it—he only wanted to help them and Thomas, after all—but that didn’t change the fact that he was still _doing_ it.

And that was only one of the many reasons why everyone was better off without him. As much as he hated to admit it, Logan was right: Thomas needed to grow up. He needed the others to have more input than Patton was allowing. Logan and Deceit could probably guide Thomas much better than he could. 

That was not to say he exactly _wanted_ to leave, of course, but….

No. It was for the best.

Roman and Logan had been in their respective rooms when Patton rose up in the Mindscape, and neither of them had been willing to speak to him, let alone open the door. Virgil had locked himself in his own room as soon as the wedding was over—actually, he had been spending much more time there ever since Remus had revealed himself. There had also been a new door in the hallway—Patton suspected it belonged to Deceit—no, wait, to _Janus_. He had stayed behind to speak to Thomas. Hopefully, he would not be back until after Patton had left.

Patton had already gathered all of his belongings and locked his Mindscape. Only one more step, and everything would be over. Only one more step, and he would be gone. 

_Step three: Lock bedroom and vanish the door._

Once Patton did this, he would be able to travel freely between his room and his Mindscape, but no one else would be able to enter either of them. In the common area of the Light Mindscape, the others would still be able to see his door, but it would become impossible to open. He had the constant option to reverse the process, should he choose to—not that he would—but unless he did, it would be impossible to communicate with the others.

Ducking out was basically death with a reverse button.

Patton turned off the stove, sighing as he scooped the pasta into a large container and set it aside to cool. He quickly did the dishes—it only seemed to take him a couple of minutes, but according to the clock, it took him half an hour—and closed the container, adding a quick note instructing Virgil, Logan, and Roman to share the pasta with the Dark Si—the Others.

Once the kitchen was clean and the pasta and note were set in the refrigerator, Patton took a deep breath and walked over to his bedroom.

It was time.

His fingers ghosted the doorknob… 

…and he hesitated. 

Something was still wrong. 

Patton took a slow step away from his bedroom door. Then another. A third. His gaze wandered over the Mindscape before landing on a familiar bedroom door.

Virgil.

His best friend.

Things had been rocky between the two of them recently, and Patton didn’t blame Virgil for his distance. It was his own fault, after all. He had been so strict, and his actions had added to Virgil’s already immense stress load. He had _hurt_ his best friend just like he had hurt Roman—worse, probably, since Virgil reacted to excessive stress far worse than Roman did—and he had not even bothered to check up on him, instead spending most of his time making sure Thomas was ready for the wedding he did not even want to go to. But Thomas would have Janus when Patton left, and with time, Roman and Logan would learn to trust him, but Virgil….

Patton was basically leaving him with his worst enemy. His heart sank. It hurt a lot to leave the others behind, but it was _agony_ knowing he was just…abandoning Virgil.

He didn’t want to leave…

…but wasn’t it better this way?

After all, there _was_ a limit on how many times a person could say sorry before their apologies became worthless. Janus had said it depended on the situation…but Patton knew that had been his subtle way of telling Patton to back off. That his words had already lost all meaning.

But he did not want to leave Virgil, especially not without a proper goodbye….

After a few minutes of thinking and hovering awkwardly by his door, Patton decided to leave a note for the other. He grabbed a piece of paper from his room and scribbled a lengthy apology. He wanted to make sure Virgil knew that this was _not_ his fault. He instructed him to tell the others that he loved them all so much, would never stop loving them, and was doing this to help them. By the time he was done, he had filled the paper with words so shaky they were barely legible. 

At least his words were sincere. Hopefully Virgil would see that he meant every one.

His final job done, Patton swallowed hard and stood on shaky feet. He needed to put the note out and come back. That would be it. The final time he would leave his room.

The next time he entered, it would be forever.

Taking a deep breath, Patton opened his door and delicately placed the note on the living room coffee table. This would be the last time he would ever see the Mindscape, so he scanned it carefully, trying to absorb the small details and commit them to memory. Surprisingly, it was not as messy as it usually was. None of Logan’s books and Roman’s scripts were scattered throughout the living room like they usually were, not to mention the lack of his own possessions.

Nonetheless, it was…home.

“…Patton?”

Startled, Patton whirled around. For one wild, hopeful, and terrifying second, he thought he was standing across from Virgil. A few blinks later, however, and he realized that he was face-to-face with Janus. Unease curled in his gut, but he masked it with a hopefully genuine smile.

“Hiya, Kiddo!” Patton said. “It looks like your room moved!” _Wow, great work. Way to state the obvious._

Janus’s gaze was suspicious, but it held a hint of something else…concern, maybe? _But why would he be concerned?_

“Patton, are you all right?” he asked slowly.

“Of course!”

This earned him a raised eyebrow in response. Patton sighed, remembering who he was talking to. “I _will_ be fine, Kiddo,” he elaborated. And it wasn’t a lie, technically. He would be happy knowing that the others were happy, and ducking out would definitely make them happy!

Even if he was sad about doing it, it was for the best. Just like eating broccoli! It was icky now, but would be for the best in the long run.

Catching his reflection in a window behind Janus, he winced. Apparently, he did look as bad as he felt. But it wasn’t that relevant right now.

“Are you sure?” Janus was actually starting to look a little concerned.

“Ab-so-lutely, Kiddo!” he chirped. The other narrowed his eyes, gaze flickering down to the note, but he nodded.

“If you say so…”

_Distract him._ In an attempt to draw the other’s attention away from himself, Patton held up the folded note and asked, “Can you make sure Virgil reads this?”

Janus looked startled, but whether it was at the sudden topic change or the mention of the youngest Side, Patton didn’t know. “I beg your pardon?”

“Can you give this note to Virgil when he comes out to get dinner?”

And _dang_ it, Janus was back to looking suspicious. “You aren’t going to be at dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.” It was true.

A few awkward seconds passed before finally, _finally_ , Janus nodded. “Of course,” he murmured, taking the paper from Patton. “I’ll pass on the message.”

“Thanks, Kiddo,” Patton smiled, but it was starting to feel increasingly fake. Before Janus could call him out again, he gave a small wave goodbye and disappeared into his room.

Collapsing against his closed door with a heavy sigh, Patton closed his eyes. This was actually it. No more stalling, no more excuses, no more…anything. This. Was. It.

He rose and turned around, placing a shaky hand on the doorknob. The metal felt icy under his sweaty fingertips as he clicked the lock shut. Then, with a deep breath, Patton gathered all the energy he would normally use to sink out, instead focusing it on his doorknob…and pushed. He pushed and he pushed and he _pushed_ the energy into the doorknob, and suddenly….

It was gone.

Faded.

The faint pressure against his hand gave way and his fingertips met the smooth wall.

He was gone.


	2. Game Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus and Virgil decide how to approach the Light Sides about their concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: FOOD MENTION
> 
> Chapter Theme Song: Hang on a Little Longer by UNSECRET

Janus frowned, his gaze flickering between the piece of paper—the note that Patton had given him—and the closed door that the other had just disappeared through.

Something was…not right.

_Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,_ he could practically hear Remus laugh. Janus blinked—that was not important right now. No, at the moment, the only thing that mattered was a certain cardigan-wearing, cat-loving Morality.

He furrowed his brow. The way Patton had just looked was a far cry from his usual appearance. His clothes may have been the same, but they were just about the only things that were. Usually, Patton kept every aspect of his outfit, from his polo shirt to his pants to his cardigan—or his cat hoodie now, as it would appear—crisply ironed. His hair was always neatly combed, and, even on his worst days, his smile appeared to be genuine.

But a moment ago, Patton had just looked exhausted. Even Janus, who wielded words the same way Remus and Roman wielded their respective weapons, could not think of a better way to describe his current state. The peppy, happy-go-lucky Side that had been present just hours before, at the wedding, had been transformed into what was basically nothing more than a walking body. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair was disheveled, and his smile was faker than Roman’s confidence. Janus knew that he was not the closest to Patton—not by a _very_ long shot—and they may not have always seen eye-to-eye on things, but that did not mean that he wanted to see him suffer.

After all, he may have been a liar, but he was not heartless.

However, there was almost nothing he could do for him, at least at the moment. Patton looked like death, and Janus was not naive enough to deny that it was partially his fault. Not entirely his fault—no, Roman had definitely had a hand in this as well, and who knows what had happened between the two after they had sunk out earlier—but he had certainly played a role in Patton’s mood. He was probably one of the _worst_ people to help, given the current…situation.

On any other given day, Janus probably would have gone to Roman, Logan, or Anx—Roman or Logan for help. Unfortunately, at the moment, Roman was probably in a worse state than Patton and too angry with Janus to hear him out. The latter was understandable, and the feeling was mutual—at the very least, at the moment, if Remus tried to bash his skull in with his morning star, Janus would be more than happy to look the other way. There was also the issue of Roman probably being angry with Patton as well. Sending him in would only exacerbate the issue.

Meanwhile, Logan was hardly a better choice. He was clearly angry with Patton, Roman, and Janus, and honestly, all of that anger was well-deserved. Janus made a mental note to apologize to him the next day. It was probably best to give both of them some time to cool off. 

Roman, Logan, and Janus himself were all out, and something told Janus that forcing Patton to hold a conversation with one of the Dark Sides would do more harm than good at the moment.

Now, hovering awkwardly outside of Patton’s room, Janus let out a sigh. As much as he hated to admit it, there was literally nothing he could do beyond keeping his eyes open. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on the others over the next few days—not just Patton, but Logan and even Roman. Janus may have been angry, but that anger was overridden by a gut feeling of worry that he just could not shake. There was no way that such a large ethical infodump could have been easy on Roman.

At least the issue was not time-sensitive. 

Even with _that_ big mess set aside, however, Janus still had another pressing issue to resolve—or two of them, if the paper pressed into his hand was any indication. His gaze flickered back and forth between the note Patton had given him and his newly-moved door. The note won out.

Eager to get it over with, Janus fumbled around the unfamiliar common area for a roll of tape. He was a little surprised by the lack of personal belongings in the Light Mindscape, but dismissed it for the time being. It was really none of his business, after all.

It took a few minutes, but he managed to find what he was looking for. He made to tape the note to a familiar, purple-painted wooden door, but just feet away, he found himself slowing to a stop.

It looked exactly the same as before. Every notch, every scratch, every…stain….

_No._

Janus physically shook his head, crossed the remaining distance to tape the note to the door, and walked away.

Was this the cowardly way out? Yes.

Did he particularly care? Not one bit.

After all, he still had the matter of his _own_ door to deal with.

Janus had stayed with Thomas after Patton sunk out. He managed to convince Thomas to put on a movie—Thomas had picked _Inside Out_ , and the irony of this was not lost to Janus—and even stayed behind to watch it with him. Thomas seemed to enjoy his dry commentary, which he easily counted as a win.

It was after the movie that things started to get…iffy. Janus had sunk out into his room, ready to celebrate his victory with the other Dark Sides and an all-night movie marathon. He had collapsed on his bed for a few minutes, allowing himself a short break to soak in his victory and the feelings of ecstasy that came with it.

_“You’re right.”_

_“Oh, I’m sorry. Uh, what was that? I couldn’t hear you.”_

_“You’re right!”_

_“Ah! Yes! Ha! It feels so good! So good!”_

Janus was not stupid enough to think that he was completely out of the woods. He was more than aware that Thomas had not truly accepted him. He had accepted Janus as a _part_ of him. Finally acknowledged that he was present and worth listening to.

But he was still a flaw. Thomas had practically said as much. 

_“Everyone has a capacity for deceit, including me, and all that means is I’m not perfect.”_

Janus knew he had a long way to go before he was completely accepted by the Light Sides, and as much as he did not like it, he could not find it in himself to blame them. Ever since the second Split, the relationship between the two halves of the Mindscape had been…well, _tense_ would be the understatement of the century.

As the oldest Sides of the Light Mindscape and Dark Mindscape respectively, Patton and Janus would arrange annual parleys. The two of them would trade information on anything they deemed important—the health and wellbeing of the other Sides, the recent actions of Thomas, or any complaints they had for the other Mindscape. 

However, outside of these meetings, interactions between the Dark and Light Sides were scarce. Remus and Roman had the occasional meeting in the Imagination, and Patton and Janus would meet up during emergencies—or whenever Patton made extra pasta. But for the most part, the Light Sides and the Dark Sides had neither seen nor spoken to each other since the second Split.

It was almost poetic, in a way, just how _different_ the two halves of the Mindscape had become. Over time, the Dark Sides had all developed animalistic traits and features. Their traits were something that had taken quite a bit of time to grow proud of—Janus still remembered the look on Patton’s face the first time the other had seen the snake scales.

That carefully-developed pride was one of the only things that had kept them from losing themselves completely.

Logan would probably compare the change to evolution—the Dark and Light Sides had spent so much time apart that they were practically different species.

However, there were still a few things that all the Sides had in common, and regardless of whether they were from the Light or Dark Mindscape, whether Thomas was aware of them, and whether they were accepted, all Sides followed one simple rule: the Light and Dark Sides did. Not. Mix.

At least not until An—

_“I never asked for this!”_

—until recently.

However, despite the recent increase in communication, when Janus stepped out into the common area, he had been expecting to see a familiar, dimly-lit room with two familiar faces ready to greet him.

He had expected to see their faces light up as he told them about his recent success. 

He had expected to see something, _anything_ , other than what he had actually seen.

  
  


He had not expected to see the Light Mindscape.

His first thought was that it was somehow a mistake; that he had somehow appeared in the wrong half of the Mindscape by mistake. That theory was debunked a moment later when he remembered that he had appeared in his room and stepped directly into the Light Mindscape. 

His room had moved.

_His room was in the freaking Light Mindscape._

No matter how many times he said it, it felt surreal…and not exactly in a good way, either.

As soon as Janus had accepted that yes, this was actually happening, and no, he had not gone insane, his mind had immediately flown to the other Dark Sides. What would this mean for the three of them? He could not just leave them—he didn’t even _want_ to leave them! He never _asked_ for his room to move!

Janus knew that neither of the others would be angry with him—all of them were more than aware of the fact that it was Thomas, not the Sides, who was in control of their rooms. Nonetheless, he could not help but feel sad and…worried…by the move. 

_It does not matter,_ he had reminded himself. _I can still spend my time in the Dark Mindscape—those stupid Light Sides would_ definitely _want to share a common area with me, after all._

At that moment, he had been prepared to turn around and walk back into his room, preferably to digest the events of the past few hours. However, he had stopped at the sight of Patton. Patton, whom Janus _still_ was worrying about, despite him already establishing the fact that there was nothing he could do for him right now. 

Janus sighed and shook his head. It did not matter right now. After all, like he had spent all evening drilling into Thomas’s head, self-care was important. He would not be able to help anyone until he helped himself.

He would keep a close eye on the Light Sides, especially Patton—even if that meant he had to start spending some of his time in the Light Mindscape. He would confront Patton face-to-face if anything seemed off.

He would wait for Roman calm down—or at least become calmer—and apologize. No lies, no half-truths, no games—he would apologize. Because it did not matter if Roman had been out of line. It did not matter if he himself was incredibly angry at him. It did not matter if Roman owed him an apology in return. Janus would not sink down to his level.

He would apologize to Logan for removing him from the video…and for impersonating him…and for the numerous times he had shut him up in the past, for that matter. Because really, in this situation, there was no excuse for his behavior.

He would make things right with the Light Sides. He did not have to like them, but at the very least, he could and would be civil.

Starting tomorrow.

But for now, he did not have to worry.

He had time.

Janus sighed and went back to his room, ready to collapse on his bed and process this absolute mess of a day.

* * *

Virgil was worried.

On its own, that was nothing out of the ordinary. After all, he _was_ Anxiety. Worrying was literally in his job description.

But this?

This was different.

He had, admittedly, been rather on edge for the past couple of weeks—ever since the Duke had revealed himself to Thomas.

Ever since he himself had revealed his history.

_“Why should you be held to a different standard than any other Side?”_

_“…Because I was one of them.”_

When Virgil told Thomas about his past, he had been hoping for reassurance. He had been hoping to be told that this new information would change nothing. That the two of them were still friends.

As much as he hated himself for it, he had actually been _expecting_ it.

Unfortunately, things did not go in his favor.

Thomas had been _horrified_.

He had looked at Virgil the same way he had first looked at J—at Deceit—like he was an intruder and an impersonator. The same way he had first looked at the Duke—like he feared him.

Like Virgil was something Thomas needed to be afraid of.

Like he was a threat, or—

—or a monster.

The arrival of the Duke had been enough to send him into fight or flight mode, and in that moment, with Thomas backing away from him with wide, horror-filled eyes, flight won out.

Since that day, Thomas and Virgil had not spoken; actually spoken; held a one-on-one, face-to-face conversation. However, the past week had been incredibly taxing on both of them, thus prompting Virgil to stay in his room during the wedding. It was the least he could do, after all. His presence would not help the situation, and he did not want to make things worse than they would inevitably be.

However, Virgil could not deny that there was a part of him—a small part of him that managed to somehow still loom over him—that did not want to be alone. A small part of him that wanted comfort; that wanted the others to tell him everything would be okay.

But he shoved that part back down.

He was too afraid.

He was afraid the Light Sides would ask questions about what had happened between him and Thomas, or worse—questions about his history. About his relationship with…with _them_. 

After Deceit had first revealed himself to Thomas, Virgil had done his best to any and all conversations about the Dar—Others. The Light Sides had many questions about them, obviously, but they had quickly caught on to the fact that it was a taboo topic. On the rare occasion that Deceit himself actually showed up in the Light Mindscape, Virgil was quick to leave the room.

He was also incredibly careful to avoid lies, not wanting to give Deceit an incentive to appear by sending out an involuntary summons. Luckily, Deceit was the only one he really had to worry about. The Duke and Serenity never showed up in the Light Mindscape—at least, not that he was aware of, anyway.

It was probably for the best. Being around the D—the Others—was too hard to bear, especially after—

_“Why should I listen to_ anything _you say?!”_

_“I never asked for this!”_

_“Get out! Just—get_ out _!”_

—certain…recent events.

The Light Sides were the only family that Virgil had, and he was not going to let Deceit and the other D—Others—come in and ruin everything!

But now, it seemed like they were dangerously close to doing just that.

Virgil knew that he was not the only one who had been shaken by the reveal of the Duke to Thomas. Roman seemed to be taking it almost as hard as Virgil himself was. It was becoming increasingly clear that his excited, confident persona was just that—a persona. His words and ideas were starting to lack their usual flair—he was being less loud, less obnoxious, less…less _Roman_. Virgil had known that the other had a fragile ego, but he was worried that one more hit would cause it to shatter completely.

Logan seemed better than Roman, but not by much. The reveal of the Duke had led to the other Light Sides listening to him—Virgil noticed that they had not been doing a lot of that lately—but that seemed to lift his overall demeanor only slightly since the trial. The trial where Deceit had shut him up…and the Light Sides had let him do it. 

Virgil knew that Deceit’s actions that day had cut deep, deeper than anyone would like to admit—it was one of the many reasons why he would very much like to…introduce the other’s facial features to his fist. Repeatedly. Logan himself would probably try to reign Virgil in; to tell him that it was unnecessary; but the fact of the matter was that ever since that day, Logan had been uncharacteristically quiet—it was just so…so _wrong_.

Almost as wrong as it had been to watch Patton lose his innocence.

It was obvious that Patton was the most rattled by the reveal of the Duke—by the trial too, for that matter. Logan and Roman were upset, but Patton had been forced to question everything he stood for, not once, but twice.

Watching Morality doubt himself like that was just—

_It was just so painful to watch._

Virgil was extremely worried—about Thomas, about the Light Sides, about the Others….

And what did he do? How did he help?

By locking himself up in his room.

Virgil owed the others an apology for shutting them out the way he had that day. He also owed them a long-overdue conversation about their feelings, because honestly, there were several things that needed to be put out in the open.

However, he did not think he—or the other Light Sides, for that matter—could handle such a heavy conversation at the moment. Not with the wedding serving as a constant, grim reminder of recent events.

Virgil’s eyes darted to the mini-fridge and microwave in the corner of his room, and he made a decision. He would reheat some leftovers—he was usually encouraged to eat with the others, but Patton allowed him to store food in his room for his piece of mind—for dinner and talk with the other Light Sides after breakfast the next day. It would also give him time to prepare his apology.

Surely nothing worse could happen in the span of a few hours. 

He had time.


	3. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil discovers what the Light Sides have done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: BLOOD MENTION, FOOD MENTION
> 
> Chapter Theme Song: Better Place by Citizen Soldier

Entering the Dark Mindscape was like breathing for the first time in centuries.

Although he would deny it if anyone ever asked, a sense of relief washed over Janus at the sight of Remus. The Duke was sitting on the couch in his pajamas, watching a vaguely-familiar horror movie. A mocha in a Starbucks-themed mug was sitting on the small coffee table, indicating that the third member of the Dark Mindscape household had stepped away for a few moments, probably to grab something from his room. Seeing the others carrying out their normal routines both soothed and unsettled Janus.

_My room moving does not_ have _to change anything,_ he attempted to remind himself. _They are, and always will be, my family._

_Nothing will come between us._ _Now and forever._

That was the familiar mantra—the promise—that was practically sacred to the Dark Sides.

But promises can be broken, and this one was no exception.

He would not be the one to make history repeat itself.

Janus tried to ignore the bitterness swelling in his chest and cleared his throat.

He considered himself lucky that the Duke had such sharp senses; otherwise, he doubted that Remus would have been capable of hearing him over the impossibly loud movie. Nonetheless, his eyes widened almost comically at the sight of Janus as he snatched up the remote and, without even looking at it, began pounding on random buttons until he miraculously hit pause.

Neither of them spoke.

“I believe I should…update the two of you on the events of today,” Janus finally spoke up, breaking the silence. Remus did not say anything, simply shifting his gaze to something—or someone—behind him. Janus heard a light sigh and spun around, another wave of relief washing over him as he saw the final member of their family standing across from him and holding a blanket.

Janus winced, however, as he looked past the Side, peering into the hallway that should have held the three painted doors leading to their bedrooms.

Now, only two doors remained.

He felt his heart drop into his stomach as he realized that the others would have been able to see when his room moved. They had probably even noticed it before he had. His eyes shifted back to the third Side, an apologetic look on both their faces.

“Yeah, babe,” Remy said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I think you should.”

* * *

Luckily, the conversation with the Dark Sides ended up going far better than Janus had originally anticipated.

Sure, there were plenty of awkward pauses, not to mention the moment in which Janus and Remy had to physically restrain Remus from trying to murder his brother—well, Janus was more than happy to let him run wild, but a sharp glare from Remy was enough to convince him to concede and assist, if only because the idea of _Remy_ of all Sides being the voice of reason was so jarring.

The trio had then gotten comfortable and proceeded to discuss everything from Janus’s new seat at the table to his concerns about the Light Sides. Luckily, both Remy and Remus acknowledged his points and promised to keep their eyes open—Remus more than Remy. The latter had only seen the Light Sides a handful of times since the second Split, whereas Remus could use the involuntary summons the others put out to keep an eye on their…darker, creative thoughts.

Like Janus himself, Remus did not start answering the involuntary summons of the Light Sides until…recently. He never appeared in group settings the way Janus did, but he was more than happy to appear when the others were alone, especially Logan and Roman.

He already saw Roman occasionally in the Imagination, so their meetings were not too different, but from the way Remus talked about Logan, Janus suspected that the two of them had actually formed a tentative friendship.

Even when they were children, Logan had been more open to the Dark Sides than Roman and Patton. He may have disagreed with their ideas, but he never scorned or shunned them as Sides because of them—well, other than _that_ day, but Remus claimed that Logan had apologized and even told him to pass on the apology. Remus had also told Janus and Remy about numerous meetings with Logan in which the other had not only let Remus talk about his interests, but actually actively participated in the conversation.

Janus may not have liked the Light Sides very much—although he could not deny that he was warming up to Patton—but he certainly _respected_ Logan. He, once again, made a mental note to apologize to him in the morning. After all, he needed to speak to Roman and check up on Patton as well, so he might as well take care of everything at once.

But for now, the three Dark Sides were sitting in what was probably the biggest—well, perhaps calling it the biggest blanket pile in the world was a stretch, even if it was the biggest blanket pile in the Mindscape—the most _comfortable_ blanket pile in the world, having abandoned the horror movie in favor of watching several sci-fi comedies.

Everything was peaceful. 

_Nothing can come between us. Now and forever._

Unfortunately, hours later, that peace was shattered when a blood-curdling scream shot through the Mindscape.

* * *

“Hey, guys, I was hoping we could talk about something? I was thinking…”

“Hey, guys, I wanted to apologize for…”

“Okay, listen up! We need to have a serious talk about feelings and your _insistence_ on ignoring them…”

Several hours later and Virgil was no closer to having his apology speech ready. He had already run through several different scenarios, ranging from the others accepting his apology to lashing out and banishing him from the Light Mindscape—the fact that the latter was entirely impossible did not deter his own mind from tormenting him. After hours of pacing and producing terrible ideas, he decided to get dressed and eat an early breakfast.

Virgil continued to type up apology ideas on his phone as he walked, thus remaining unaware of the eerie silence enveloping the common area and the new, yet familiar, yellow door.

In the kitchen, Virgil was happy to discover some of Patton’s signature pasta in the refrigerator—of course, that happiness dimmed slightly when he read the note asking him, Roman, and Logan to share the pasta with the Da—the Others.

He scoffed and tossed the note onto the counter, taking a small serving for himself. Virgil did not particularly care whether anyone else delivered pasta to the other half of the Mindscape, but he himself would not be the one to do so.

He made himself a small cup of tea and sat on the counter, still reviewing his apology plans as he ate. Luckily, the comforting taste of Patton’s special, made-with-love pasta managed to somewhat ease his worries. After a few minutes, he accepted that his speech was as good as it would get and began scrolling through Tumblr instead.

Unfortunately, the distraction meant that it took him half an hour to realize Logan was late for breakfast.

Upon making this realization, Virgil frowned and checked the time on his phone. It was half past six, and he himself had been in the kitchen for an hour. Logan always, always, _always_ woke up at six o’clock sharp.

No. Exceptions.

Sure, in hindsight, Virgil could detect a bit of tension between the others on the previous day, but the Light Mindscape had been abnormally tense ever since the trial. Surely there would not start being negative effects just _now_.

Right?

Virgil did his best to write it off as a fluke—maybe Logan’s alarm broke.

Or something.

He managed to distract himself for a while, but after another half hour, he ran out of things to stress clean. It was almost as though someone had cleaned the entire kitchen last night.

Shaking off the thought— _not relevant right now!_ —Virgil decided to check on Logan. It was now seven in the morning—the time that Virgil would normally wake up—and there was still another hour before Patton and Roman would be awake. Sure, Logan was probably just sleeping in, but if he was not, well…Virgil would rather deal with an unhappy Logan than a hurt, sick, or injured one.

He turned off his phone and made his way to the hallway. He began making his way over to a certain dark blue door…

…and promptly froze in his tracks.

That yellow door at the end of the hall—

_“Why should I listen to_ anything _you say?!”_

_“I never asked for this!”_

_“Get out! Just—get_ out _!”_

No—

_No…._

* * *

Janus shot to his feet, Remy and Remus doing the same on either side of him.

_“Where the fuck is that noise coming from?”_ Remy screeched in an attempt to make himself audible.

Janus looked around wildly before throwing his hands in the air. _“It sounds like it’s coming from all directions,”_ he yelled back. _“It’s almost like—”_

He cut himself off. No. There was no way that this situation had anything to do with… _t_ _hat_. 

With _him_.

_“Uh, guys,”_ Remus began uneasily, seeming to have the same thought process as Janus. _“You don’t think this has anything to do with—”_

_“No!”_ Janus screamed in response. No. This was _not_ happening—and if it somehow was, it was not their issue anymore!

_“But—”_

_“Heads up!”_ Remy interrupted Remus with a shout, sounding uncharacteristically nervous as he pointed in a seemingly arbitrary direction. Janus and Remus followed his gaze and saw he was pointing at—

No.

The obsidian-colored door that none of them ever used. The door that had remained shut almost constantly for over twenty years.

The door to the Light Mindscape.

The Dark Sides and Light Sides never had a reason to use the hallway that connected the two halves of the Mindscape. If they did, for whatever stupid reason, need to go to the other half of the Mindscape, they simply sunk out into it.

But right now, deep, inky shadows were swirling out from under the door. Shadows only one Side was capable of creating.

* * *

_No no no no no—_

There was absolutely _no fucking way_ —

Anger flooded his senses, and for a moment, all he saw was red. A desire to break something—preferably the yellow door—overtook him, but his attention was quickly caught on a piece of paper taped to his own door.

He stormed over and ripped the paper off, nearly ripping it in the process. The note had better contain a _fucking good explanation for why the snake’s door was in the Light Mindscape_ —

It quickly became clear that Patton was the one who had written the note, and Virgil froze as his brain caught up to the meaning behind the words. 

_Ducking out…._

_Goodbye forever…._

“No,” he whispered in horror, Deceit completely forgotten. It felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on him.

_“No, no, no!”_ Virgil yelled in a panic, his voice gaining volume as he ran over to Patton’s door and jiggling the knob. Upon realizing that the door did not, and probably would not, open, Virgil tried to sink out into his room, but to no avail. Trying to enter his personal Mindscape yielded the same result.

It was like Patton was completely disconnected from the rest of the Mindscape.

Fight or flight mode officially activated, Virgil fell to his knees and began pounding on the door. “ _Patton_! Patton, please! Open the fucking door! Or— _freaking_ door! Please, I’ll do better! I’ll _be_ better! I—I’ll never curse or swear again, I promise!” Virgil’s fists were starting to bleed, but ignored them. “I’ll do anything! We’ll all do _anything_ , just—come out! _I’m sorry_!” His breaths were starting to come in short pants, and tears were running down his cheeks. The blood from his hands was starting to leave rust-colored stains on the pale blue paint.

“Patton— _Dad_ , please…please don’t go! Please, we need you! _I_ need you! 

_“Don’t leave me!”_

* * *

The Dark Sides looked at each other worriedly. Each of them were torn between wanting to help with the situation and wanting to ignore it. However, each of them also knew that the appearance of the shadows meant that things were getting bad. _Really_ bad.

_“Gurls,”_ Remy started. _“I think we_ really _need to see what’s happening over there—”_

_“No!”_ Janus and Remus shouted in unison. The latter looked uncharacteristically angry as he continued, _“Anxiety made his choice!”_

_“Oh, get your heads out of your asses for like three fucking seconds!”_ Remy screamed back. Remus did not provide his usual grotesque imagery at that statement, solidifying just how serious the situation was. _“Personal relationships don’t_ matter _right now! If…if he is really doing this, then we_ need _to intervene before things get worse, because for fuck’s sake, things_ will _get worse!”_

Remy was panting, and Remus and Janus were watching him with wide eyes. It was rare for any of the Dark Sides to truly lose their cool, but Remy getting angry was like the sky turning purple—unnatural. After all, his title wasn’t Serenity for nothing. 

But he had made a fair point. Not only was the situation bad, but it had the potential to get much worse very, very fast.

_Now and forever._

Reluctantly, Janus stalked over to the door connecting the Dark and Light Mindscapes and threw it open, hiding his surprise at the opaqueness of shadows swirling around. The screaming grew louder, but it was hard to pinpoint where it was coming from—and with how dark the hall was, the source of the noise could easily be three feet away and he would not know. Janus’s heart dropped into his stomach as he realized that Remy was right: the three of them needed to intervene, and they needed to do it fast. But if they did not know exactly where the screaming was coming from, they could not sink out to that location, meaning their only option was…. 

A heavy sigh was the only warning Janus gave before running off, calling for the others to follow him.

* * *

Virgil lay curled up at the base of Patton’s door, exhausted and hands bleeding. Tears streamed silently down his face as he threw a weak glare at Deceit’s door. 

_This is all. Your. Fault._

But what could possibly have happened between Deceit and Patton to make Patton…to make him….

What had happened? If _Patton_ had been so upset by him, then what about Roman and Logan?

_Wait._

Virgil shot to his feet, legs trembling beneath him. _Roman and Logan._ He needed to tell them what had happened.

With tremendous efforts he shuffled across the hall, over to Logan’s door, and knocked. He knew he must have looked like a mess, hands scratched and bleeding, face tearstained, and eyeshadow smeared from crying, but honestly? _He did not give a fuck_.

Ten seconds later and Logan had not opened the door. Virgil hesitated before attempting to open the door himself. Something told him that good manners were not exactly top priority at the moment.

The door did not open.

Virgil bit his tongue— _this isn’t the same situation, stop jumping to conclusions_ —and tried to sink out into his room.

Nothing.

“Okay, well, maybe he just locked his door? And slept in?” Virgil said aloud, voice shaking despite himself. Surely it was unnecessary, but…after a moment’s hesitation, he tried to sink out into Logan’s Mindscape.

It was locked. 

“Okay, no, _no_ —fuck, this can’t be happening,” Virgil rambled, nails digging into his scalp as he began to rock back and forth. “It…it’s not— _Logan_!” he suddenly screamed, cutting himself off. “ _Logan_ , you need to come out! It’s an emergency!”

He pressed his ear against the door, but there was no sound coming from inside. His breathing started to increase as it became harder and harder to deny what had happened. “No, Logan, I swear, you better not have—” he shouted, hitting the door and reopening whichever wounds had managed to scab over. “Teach— _Logan_ , please! _I’m sorry_! We already lost Patton, we— _I can’t lose you too_!”

The dark blue door did not reply.

* * *

Janus sprinted down the impossibly long hallway, Remy and Remus on his tail. Each one was attempting to ignore the worry stewing inside. The three of them had all seen this reaction a few times before, but it never occurred without an extreme situation.

What could have possibly happened to trigger this response?

Janus’s mind immediately flew to his newly-moved bedroom door. Bile rose up in his throat and he prayed that he was wrong.

_Surely he doesn’t hate me so much…right?_

* * *

“Okay, okay, okay,” Virgil muttered, pushing himself off of Logan’s door, choosing to ignore the red handprints he was leaving behind.

“So Patton is gone,” he told himself, rocking back and forth on his feet. “And apparently Logan is also gone. So that means…” 

His eyes shot to a red door.

This time, Virgi did not even bother trying to knock on the door. He immediately tried to sink out into Roman’s room—and then his Mindscape—and then his room again—and his Mindscape again—until realization finally set in.

_“No…”_ Virgil whimpered, his voice choked up and horrified. “No, no, _no no no_! _Dad_! _Logan_! _Princey_! Guys, _please_ , if this is some sort of fucked-up game then you win! If I did something wrong, then _I’m sorry_! _I’m so, so sorry_! But, _please_ , I’m _begging_ you, just come out!” 

His tears were flowing fast, too fast for him to see through, and he could not catch his breath. _“Please! I need you! Don’t leave me!”_ Virgil screamed, his throat aching. His hands dug into his scalp, pulling at his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Finally, the internal pain becoming too much to handle, Virgil let out an Earth-shattering scream and let his shadows take over.

* * *

After what must have been five minutes of solid sprinting, Janus, Remus, and Remy finally burst through the door to the Light Mindscape. The shadows were so thick and dark that it was nearly impossible to see, but Remy, who had the best night vision out of everyone in the Mindscape, and Janus, who could see heat with his snake eye, were able to make out a small figure near the bedroom doors. 

As they drew closer, they could see that the figure was indeed the source of the screaming. 

Vi—Anxiety.

Janus’s eyes widened slightly. _“Remy,”_ he shouted. _“You need to—”_

_“On it, babe,”_ Remy yelled back. He carefully made his way over to Anxiety, slowly kneeling down and putting a hand on his shoulder, holding him at arm’s length. When the other did not react, Remy gently took his chin in his hand and titled it upward, forcing him to meet his eyes. Through the shadows, Janus could see the faint flash of orange light that came with Remy using his powers. A moment later, the screaming cut off and the shadows began to dissipate as Anxiety’s eyes slid shut.

Remus and Janus joined Remy on the floor as the latter put Anxiety’s head in his lap. “Oh, hun,” Remy whispered somberly, taking in his worn appearance, the blood on his hands, and the tear stains on his cheeks. “What happened to you?”

Janus glanced around the hallway, frowning at the bloodstains on both Patton and Logan’s doors. He opened his mouth to say something, but Remus beat him to it.

“Where’s my bro and the other Lights? And what the fuck is this?” the Duke asked, snatching up a wrinkled piece of paper off the floor. After a moment, realization struck Janus.

“That’s the note,” Janus explained. “The one Patton wanted me to give to V—to Anxiety.” Remus handed it to him and rose to his feet.

“You find out what it says, I’ll look for the Lights,” Remus replied.

Janus nodded, surprised at Remus’s sudden proactivity. Shaking it off, he looked over the note, confused by Patton’s shaky handwriting. It took a few moments for him to realize what the note was saying. 

Janus may not have cursed often, but at that moment, it seemed appropriate.

“Oh, fucking _shit_.”


	4. Agreements and Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and the Dark Sides discuss their options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: ARGUING, BLOOD MENTION, FOOD MENTION, SELF-HATRED
> 
> Chapter Theme Song: Without You by Breaking Benjamin

_Dear Virgil,_

_Well, Kiddo…I guess this is it. I’m ducking out._

_First of all, I want you to know that this is NOT YOUR FAULT. This is MY fault, and my fault only. I love you and the others so, so, SO much, and I swear if you blame yourself for this, your Pop will pop back in just to physically fight you!_

_Anyway, back to the main reason I’m writing this…Kiddo, I’m so sorry. For everything. The truth is, I DON’T know everything about morals. I DON’T always know the right path. I hurt Thomas, Virgil, when it was my job to guide him! He, and all of you, are better off with someone else in charge._

_But Kiddo: I want you to remember that no matter what happens, I will ALWAYS love you. I know things between us have been a little…rocky lately, but seriously, you are, and always will be, my best friend. If you’ll still have me as yours, anyway._

_I will NEVER forget you, ANY of you, no matter how things go._

_Please tell Roman and Logan that I love them too. Tell them that this is NOT their fault. Also, please tell Roman that I am very sorry (he’ll know what it means)._

_I love you so much, Vee. I promise, things will be better this way._

_Goodbye forever,_

_Patton_

“Oh, fucking _shit_.”

The world had stopped moving. Time seemed to stand frozen as Janus’s eyes settled on the unconscious Side on the floor. This was bad—actually, no bad was a grievous understatement.

“Jay? What does it say, babe?”

Janus snapped his gaze back to Remy, who was watching him with a worried glance. Remus stood behind him, expression so uncharacteristically dark, Janus felt chills run down his spine. He took a deep breath. “Can I speak to you privately?” he asked, inclining toward the latter with his head.

Remus nodded, walking over and pulling him to his feet. The fact that he was acting so serious—no jokes, no vulgar commentary, no grinning or laughing—spoke _volumes_ about the severity of the situation.

“What’s going on?” Remy asked, eyes flickering between the two older Sides. “I thought we promised not to keep secrets from each other.”

To anyone else, Remy would sound relaxed and disinterested—perhaps mildly curious at best. However, Janus could sense the underlying tones of worry in his voice.

“We’ll tell you in a little bit,” he reassured him. “I just want to get all the facts straightened out.” 

Contrary to popular belief, Janus and Remus usually worked together when it came to concealing information—not just with Thomas, but even with the other Sides. After all, the Side with a reputation for lying and the Side who was honest to a fault—who else could possibly be better suited for the job? The two of them could have worked against each other, but instead, they chose to cooperate.

With practice, words became their weapons and information their currency.

Janus led Remus to the kitchen of the Light Mindscape— _the last place I saw Patton,_ he realized with an internal shudder. Something about that detail made his stomach turn.

“Care to explain why all the bedrooms are locked and, oh, I dunno, _why I can’t enter any of their Mindscapes_?” Remus demanded in a hushed tone once they were out of earshot. 

Janus winced. “Well…it has come to my attention that—” His voice cut off as he registered what Remus had just said. “Wait, what do you mean you can’t enter _anyone’s_ room or Mindscape?” 

“Literally just that!” Remus exclaimed, gesturing wildly as he spoke. “It’s like…like they don’t even exist!”

Janus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, carefully masking the fear that was curling in his gut. “Well, from Patton’s note…” He hesitated. Why was it so hard to say? Sure, Janus cared about Patton slightly, but they barely even spoke. “Pattonduckedout.”

Remus blinked. “Pardon?”

Janus squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to articulate his words very carefully. “Patton. Ducked. Out.”

A beat, then, _“Fuck!”_

_“Remus!”_ Janus hissed, eyes widening and darting toward the hallway where Remy was still waiting with V—with Anxiety.

“No, Jan, this is _shit_ ,” Remus spat. “This whole situation is _fucking shit_! Patton, fucking _Patton_ of all Sides, is _gone_ , and we have no way of reaching Roman or Logan! It’s like they _all_ fucking ducked out—”

Remus cut himself off with a sharp inhale as the horrifying realization sunk into both Sides. 

“Well, _fuck_ ,” Remus said with a slightly hysterical laugh. _“Fucking fuckity fuck.”_

Janus, who did not know how to react, watched his friend with wide eyes. “Remus,” he began carefully. “Are you all—”

“Am I _what_ , Jay?” Remus demanded, his grin just a touch too wide. “Am I _all right_? After finding out that Morality, my brother, and _one of my only friends_ have all fucking _ducked out_?” A high pitched laugh escaped him. “Why, I’ve never been better!”

“Remus—” Janus repeated, his brow furrowing in concern and his heart pounding as he simultaneously tried to process the scene in front of him and the fact that _the Light Sides were gone forever_ —

“Okay, someone please explain what the absolute fuck this—this _ducking out_ thing is?”

Janus and Remus spun around, startled to see Remy standing a few feet away, his arms folded across his chest and a glare on his face. The intimidating look was damped by his black and orange pajamas, but the message was just as clear. 

_Tell me what’s going on._

“Remy,” Janus said slowly in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “Can you go back home? I _promise_ Remus and I will explain everything, we just—we just need a moment.” If they were really going to have _this_ conversation, he would rather it not be in what was essentially a ghost town.

“What about V—I mean, what about Anxiety? Like, we can’t just _leave_ him here,” Remy pointed out.

Janus hesitated, sharing a look with Remus. As much as they hated the situation, Remy was right— _far more than he knew_. 

“I suppose you could…bring him with you,” Janus conceded. Remus rolled his eyes with a sigh but did not protest.

Remy raised an eyebrow at how quickly the other two agreed, but complied and sank out with Anxiety. Once he was gone, Janus and Remus exchanged a worried look. The conversation they were about to have—it was not going to be easy.

Had Janus had his way, the other Dark Sides would not even know that ducking out existed. Remus had asked him about it once, and Janus had provided a vague explanation before instructing him to never mention the topic to the two youn—Remy.

But now, he would be stuck explaining the topic once more.

Janus was not looking forward to this.

* * *

The Dark Mindscape was actually a warm place.

While the statement might sound contradictory, it was more than true, and not just in the literal sense. Janus cared deeply about Remus and Remy, and he knew that the others felt the same. The three of them were friends—no, brothers. _Family._

And family can make anything better.

The Dark Sides moved into the Subconscious immediately after the second Split. The place was originally cold and grimmer than a graveyard, and although they were civil and polite, the awkwardness in the air had not helped in the slightest.

But alone in the bleak Subconscious, the Dark Sides were forced to rely on each other. It soon became clear that shutting one other out was not an option for them—not when they were all each other had. 

It began with a few simple renovations—a rug here, a lamp there. Nothing they did was supposed to make the place comfortable—rather, their actions were an attempt to make the place less uncomfortable. But with time, as their bonds grew, so did their tolerance for the Subconscious. Instead of pining after a light that would never accept them, they learned to make a home in the shadows.

The Dark Sides may have been outcasts, but they would never cast out anyone else.

With that realization, the Subconscious was given a new name: the Dark Mindscape.

And cold became warm.

* * *

At the moment, however, the Dark Mindscape was colder than it had been in years.

After a very heavy family meeting, Remus retreated into the Imagination to take his anger out on a few training dummies. Remy took the time to settle Anxiety on the couch and bandage his hands before heading off to his own room to watch a movie. Janus, meanwhile, holed himself up in the kitchen with the excuse of cooking breakfast for the other two—well, three now, he supposed, if Anxiety woke up.

The trio was at a loss of what to do with Anxiety. Remy had suggested allowing him to stay with them for the time being, but Janus shot the idea down almost immediately. Remus had agreed with Janus, also raising the question of whether Anxiety even would even _want_ to stay with them.

There was also the elephant in the room—the loss of the Light Sides. Logistically speaking, this was very, _very_ bad for Thomas. Living a life without any trace of logic, light creativity, and morality? 

Without any trace of light at all?

Well, technically, there was still Remy. It was no secret that his function drastically differed from those of the other Dark Sides. The fact that he was a Dark Side in the first place…well, Janus supposed that was one of the only good things to come out of the second Split.

Janus sighed as he prepared pancake batter. To decide their next course of action, they would have to speak with Thomas…and with Anxiety.

Yay.

* * *

The first thing Virgil noticed was the smell in the air.

It took a moment to put a finger on exactly _what_ the smell was, but judging by the distinct odor of fish, he realized that Janus was probably making mini pizzas again. His lips quirked upward at the thought of what was undeniably one of the _best foods in existence_ —why Remus insisted on sullying his own with the abomination that was raw fish, he did not know. That gremlin.

A moment later, three familiar voices cut through the buzzing in his ears.

“…been out for hours…”

“…how should we explain…”

“…best possible solution…”

“…Patton and the others…”

_Patton and the others…._

With the subtlety of a car crash, it all came rushing back to him—the note, the doors, and—

_They left me…._

Virgil shot upward and bolted to his feet, immediately growing lightheaded at the sudden change in orientation. Three startled heads spun around to face him, and for a quick, hopeful second, he imagined it was the Light Sides that were surrounding him.

But the air was too cold. The lighting was too dark.

And the colors were all wrong.

_Everything_ was wrong.

A few seconds passed in silence as the four Sides stared at each other, startled. “…How are you feeling, hun?” Rem— _no, Serenity, he is_ only _Serenity_ —finally asked, his voice soft.

“Why am I here?” Virgil demanded. “What did you do to the others?” His eyes flew down his body—he was still in his pajamas, he noticed—to J—to Deceit, his expression so furious that the other actually took a step back. “How did your room move? What did you **do to them**?”

“Uh, maybe we all should calm do—”

**“Shut up,** **_Serenity_** **!”** Virgil snapped, his voice coming out loud and distorted. _Tempest Tongue_ , it had long ago been dubbed.

“Don’t talk to him like that!” the Duke yelled, not at all intimidated by the display.

**“Stay out of this, Duke! This is between me and…and** **_him_** **!”** he yelled before rounding on the oldest Side present. **“You went up there,** **_Deceit_** **, didn’t you? You went up there and** **_hurt_ ** **them, all of them, for…for** **_what_** **? To get them out of your way? To get your room to move?”**

“Anxiety, I— _”_

**_“No!”_ ** Virgil screamed, voice somehow still increasing in volume. **“They’re** **_gone_** **! My family, my** **_real_ ** **family, is gone because of** **_you_** **, so you are going to tell. Me.** **_What_** **.** **_You_** **.** **_Did_** **!** **_”_**

Virgil was breathing rapidly. Shadows were starting to swirl throughout the room, the piercing violet glow of his eyes cutting through their dark haze. As he spoke, some of the shadows began to cover him, particularly the areas around his head, mouth, back, and hands. A moment later, the shadows solidified.

The Others gasped collectively.

Virgil shifted completely into his Instinct Form—dark feline ears, a dark feline tail, elongated canines, and razor-sharp claws, all in edition to his glowing eyes—something he had not done in a _very_ long time. The Light Sides did not even know about this particular ability of his. 

All inhabitants of the Dark Mindscape, former and present, had traits resembling that of a specific animal. However, when they were not in their Instinct Form, their traits could be concealed at will. The only Side to show part of his traits on a daily basis was Deceit, who left his snake scales on display like a gold medal.

But Virgil had not shifted, even partially, in _years_.

Deceit rubbed at his temples. “Anxiety, I know you’re upset,” he began. “But please, be reasonable—”

**_“Oh, really? You want me to be_ ** **reasonable** ** _? To be_ ** **rational** ** _?”_ **

_“Anxiety!”_ Deceit screamed.

Everyone froze, even Virgil. It was so rare to see Deceit raise his voice, let alone outright shout at someone. Unfortunately, the brief pause was all that he needed.

“Remus, you need to calm down, and Vi—Anxiety, you need to _take a step back_.” Virgil shot a murderous glare at Deceit, but the other simply sent back one of his own. “In case you have forgotten, I represent _self-preservation_ , same as you. So _yes_ , it makes _complete_ sense for me to hurt the others in a way that would only backfire and hurt Thomas.”

“What if we make a deal?” Serenity cut in before Virgil could retort. Virgil paused, eyes dimming and the shadows growing thinner. 

_“…What?”_ Virgil asked incredulously, his voice back to normal.

“Yes, Remy?” Deceit gestured to the other as if to hand over the floor.

“We work together— _all_ of us—to figure out how the fuck to deal with this crazy situation. A truce, sorta,” Serenity explained, putting his hands in his pockets.

Virgil glowered. _“Why would I agree to work with_ any _of you?”_ he hissed dangerously, eyes flashing violet for a split second.

“Because four heads are better than one, babe.”

“Remy…may have a point,” Deceit said slowly. Everyone turned their attention to him, and he turned his attention to Virgil. “At the end of the day, we all share the same goal: to help Thomas. And Anxiety, you and I are his protectors. I’m not sure you understand the true stakes of the situation—”

“I’m not stupid,” Virgil spat. “I _know_ what ducking out is.”

Pause.

“How do you—” the Duke started with narrowed eyes, but Virgil cut him off.

“None of your fucking business. All you need to know is that yeah, I understand how bad this mess is.” His eyes burned. “But even if Thomas wasn’t affected by it, I would still do _anything_ to fix it, because whatever _you_ pulled last night”—he shot a vicious glare at Deceit—“hurt the others. Hurt my _family_. _And I will do whatever I have to to protect them_.” 

“Even if that means allying with the enemy?” Deceit asked smoothly.

Virgil stopped at that. _I hate this. I hate_ everything _about this fucking situation!_

_But…I will do_ anything _to get the Light Sides back._

“Fine,” he muttered.

“I think you should seriously recons—wait, what?” Deceit did a double-take, startled by his quick compliance.

Virgil scowled and shifted back to his regular appearance. Spending too much time in his Instinct Form always made him uneasy. “I said _fine_. But if you hurt Thomas in _any_ other way…” He left the threat hanging in the air.

“Of course,” Deceit purred with a roll of his eyes. “So, I assume we have a deal?”

Virgil stared at the gloved hand being offered to him before placing his own in it. 

“Deal.”

* * *

The obvious next step was discussing the current issue with Thomas. Given the severity of the situation, one thing everyone could agree on was that Remy and Remus would stay behind, the former because adding a new Side to the mix would just complicate matters and the latter because Thomas did not need a crisis on top of everything else.

It was approximately three in the afternoon—Anxiety had been asleep for several hours thanks to Remy’s powers—and Janus had decided that everyone would eat lunch before he and Anxiety left to speak to Thomas.

Remy, who had been significantly less hostile toward Anxiety than the other two, encouraged him to eat lunch with them, but Anxiety had simply glowered, told Janus to summon him when he was ready to talk to Thomas, and sunk out with a huff.

Janus, meanwhile, felt as though everything happening was a bad dream. Guilt and shame coiled in his gut to the point of nausea. He had managed to force down a pancake at breakfast, but now, with the events of the day beginning to sink in, he doubted he could take a single bite without throwing up.

It was his fault.

The Light Sides had all decided to duck out, and Virgil had been right—it really _was_ his fault.

Logan had _clearly_ been upset after the video, and Janus knew that he himself had contributed to that. He had literally yanked the other out of the video. With a cane. Around his _neck_. He had shut Logan up in a way that was not only violent, but downright _degrading_ —and all on _camera_.

Why hadn’t Janus spoken up sooner? Why hadn’t he returned to the Mindscape immediately after the video? He could have checked on Logan; he could have apologized to him. But no, his stupid pride had gotten in the way. Instead of actually being _helpful_ , he had chosen to watch a childish movie.

Janus had spent the entire evening trying to get Thomas to understand that it was okay to be selfish, but he had immediately kneecapped his own argument. Absolutely _great_ work on his part.

And all of that was without getting into the mess with Roman. Yes, Roman had insulted him. Yes, he himself had been extraordinarily angry at him. But did that mean he wanted Roman _gone_?

_No, he most certainly did_ not _want that!_

Roman had hurt him by laughing at his name. That was true. But Janus was _older_ ; he should have _known_ _better_. He should _not_ have sunken down to his level. He knew what Roman’s greatest insecurity was—he knew that his entire confidence was a front—and he had exploited that for—for _what_? For momentary satisfaction? For revenge? To prove a goddamn _point_?

Was it even worth it? Breaking down Creativity— _Thomas’s ego_ —for the sake of advancing himself?

He may have advocated for pushing people down stairs, but _he had been joking, for goodness’s sake_!

But that did not matter, because he had still pushed Roman to that point of ducking out.

And Patton—

Patton had also ducked out because of him—because of how pushy he had been. 

_“Here’s the thing, Patton—pushy is pushy.”_

Janus had done the _exact_ same thing he had told Patton off for doing, and Patton was the one who had to pay the price. 

Logan, Roman, and Patton—the people whom Janus had spent most of his life despising—had always been there for Thomas. He may not have liked them, but they were always present. It was a constant; something he had always taken for granted.

But now, they were gone.

And Janus had been the one to drive them to that point.

_I DON’T know everything about morals. I DON’T always know the right path._

He could have acted differently during the video. He could have talked to Patton afterward. Hell, he could have stopped him when they spoke in the hallway!

Luckily, there was still an offhand, _slight_ chance that Logan and Roman had not ducked out and had simply locked both their rooms and their Mindscapes…and had _somehow_ not noticed when Virgil released his shadows. If that was the case, Thomas would be able to summon them during their conversation.

Unfortunately, it was far more likely that they did duck out, and Janus did not think that he would ever be able to forgive himself for pushing them to that point. Or that he even deserved to.

His role was self-preservation, but what did it mean if he could not stop the other Sides from destroying themselves?

Janus could have done better.

He _should_ have done better.

But he had not, and now, it was too late.

* * *

Virgil appeared in his room and collapsed on his bed. _Holy fuck—_

The Light Sides—Patton, Roman, Logan—his _family_ —

They were _gone_. Forever.

All because of _him_.

Virgil snarled. Deceit had spent the entire meetings acting so—so _calm_ ; so _smug_ ; so much like he had _not_ just destroyed Virgil’s only family. He had taken everything from Virgil, not even for the first time, and he had the sheer _audacity_ to act like— _like_ —

Anger bubbled up inside him and he threw himself off the bed with a growl, slamming his fist into the wall. Again. And again.

He began to yell incoherently as he attacked the wall, reopening his old wounds and creating new ones but not caring one bit. His entire family was _gone_ , and he had just woken up in what was _literally_ the place of his nightmares.

He had just been surrounded by Deceit, the Duke, and Serenity, all at once. Had just made a _deal_ with them. Virgil scowled, ignoring the pain as his blood began to drip on the floor. In most of his nightmares, he would wake up in the Dark Mindscape, surrounded by the Others. Usually, they would hurt him, ridicule him, or even try to outright kill him.

But in his worst nightmares, they were nice to him.

In his worst nightmares, they were his family again. 

And now, somehow, they were his allies. 

Fuck. 

_Fuck._

_FUCK!_

Everything about this situation was just so—so _fucked up_!

He could not even go to his family for support, because they were gone, and chances were, they were _never_ coming back. After all, they had not made the same mistakes that he had.

_Goodbye forever…._

Virgil abruptly froze and collapsed to his knees, ignoring how he was kneeling on his own bloodstains.

He would gladly accept bloodstained clothes if it meant he could have his family back.

_They left, and I never even got to apologize…._

He had never even gotten to say goodbye. The Light Sides left probably thinking he hated them. And…and what if this was _his own_ fault? Virgil was their family—he should have _noticed_ things were getting bad. How could he have been so….

“How could I have been so blind?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

Virgil sighed and moved to rub his eyes before quickly realizing that his hands were once again covered in blood. He pushed himself to his feet, ready to clean himself up before the meeting with Thomas, when he felt the tug of a summons.

_Showtime._


	5. Difficult Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Remy have a talk about Anxiety. Meanwhile, Janus and Virgil break the bad news to Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: ARGUING, BLOOD MENTION, FOOD MENTION
> 
> Chapter Theme Song: Too Far Gone by SVRCINA

Remus was not an easily disturbed person. 

Usually, he enjoyed being surrounded by the very things that made others squirm—after all, those subjects could always be used to inspire interesting stories, and as one half of Creativity, Remus practically _thrived_ on inspiration.

However, despite his love for dark subject matters—and despite what the Light Sides thought of him—intrusive thoughts were _not_ a part of his function. At his core, Remus represented the same thing Roman did: creativity. 

_“Roman is sort of like Netflix kids and family.”_

Going off of the analogy that Logan had given Thomas, the main difference between the twins was rather simple. Roman took control of lighthearted themes—nothing that would deserve anything higher than a PG rating—while Remus governed the topics with a PG-13 rating and higher. Functionally, both of them had the exact same job: providing creative ideas in their respective areas for Thomas.

The thing was, Thomas accepted most of the ideas that Roman put out. Even if he did not _like_ them, he still acknowledged them. Unknowingly, Thomas actually did the same with most of the lighter ideas that Remus gave him. After all, Thomas’s love for horror movies and suspenseful stories stemmed from _Remus_ , not Roman. Most of the Sides did not realize it, but Remus helped Thomas.

However, Thomas still had a tendency to be afraid of the darker ideas Remus offered. Those were the thoughts that usually ended up repressed; left to rot in the Subconscious.

That may have been an adequate solution if not for one major problem—those thoughts were going to find their way up to Thomas, one way or another, and no one could do anything to change that. Not even Remus.

_“The Duke is like Roman’s twin. The embodiment of ‘bad imagination.’ Which is primarily experienced by you via intrusive thoughts.”_

Remus did not create intrusive thoughts— _Thomas_ created his own intrusive thoughts by trying to repress his imagination. If Thomas stopped repressing his darker ideas—if he even just _acknowledged_ them—they would become less twisted; less rotten; less obstructive.

Unfortunately, Remus had long since given up on explaining any of this to the others. Everyone—everyone other than his fellow Dark Sides, that was—saw him as a dirty-minded psychopath, no matter what he did or how he acted. Thus, Remus, who, like Thomas and Roman, was an actor, decided that it was easier to simply play the role he was cast into.

It was all a front.

Not entirely, of course. He really did have an appreciation for darker themes in movies. He liked gross trivia and bloody video games, and he enjoyed making people squirm with his dirty-minded humor. However, despite all this, he was far more understanding than the Light Sides gave him credit for. After all, he was the second oldest Side in the Dark Mindscape, and _someone_ had to help Janus make sure Remy and Vi—Remy did not accidentally get killed in the mess that used to be the Subconscious.

Remus could be responsible. He had thoughts and feelings; likes and dislikes.

He could care about the others.

He _did_ care about the others.

So finding out that his brother and his only non-Dark Side friend were—were just _gone_? Like— _dead_ gone? 

Like _forever_ gone?

That was not something easy to wrap his head around.

Remus did not blame Janus for any of this, of course. He might end up having a stronger reaction later on, once the reality of the situation actually sunk in, but no matter what, it would be very hard to be angry at Janus considering the state he was in. Janus had spent the entirety of lunch absentmindedly poking at his food, not even taking a single bite of his mini pizza. Remy and Remus exchanged several not-so-subtle concerned glances, but Janus had been way too out of it to notice their suspicion.

After lunch, once Janus had left to speak with Thomas, Remus waited a grand total of five minutes before deciding to distract himself with productive activity. 

His idea was to go back to the Light Mindscape—as unsettling as it was to be there, and that was coming from _him_ —and clean up the mess that Anxiety had left. Sure, he could just snap all the blood out of existence, but that felt like cheating. 

The Light Sides were gone. Remus may not have been the closest to them, but the least he could do was take care of their home.

He quickly gathered some basic cleaning supplies. However, just before he could sink out, he heard footsteps behind him. 

“Remus?” Remy called, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Remus paused at his tone. “You okay, Sandman?” he asked, turning around and raising an eyebrow.

Remy shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, hiding behind sunglasses and a mask of carefully-feigned nonchalance. “I have a couple of questions about this whole ‘ducking out’ business, if you’re cool with us talking about it…?” His voice trailed off. 

_Can we talk about what happened today?_ hung unspoken in the air.

“Sure thing, little bro,” Remus said. “Imma be cleaning up the Light Mindscape, though, so follow if you dare!” He wiggled his eyebrows and sank out quickly, if only to hide his worried expression from the younger Side.

Remus was not an easily disturbed person, but he was starting to get rather concerned about his family.

* * *

The first thing Remy did upon entering the Light Mindscape was take note of his surroundings. 

The setup was very similar to that of the Dark Mindscape, except for the minor fact that everything was…twisted, for lack of a better word. The common areas both had a kitchen, a dining table, and a living room, but in the Light Mindscape, everything was arranged in a different way. The lighting was brighter, the air warmer, and everything just… _wrong_. 

_Jarring_ was probably the best word to describe it.

How messed up was it that the Light Mindscape was even more unnerving than the Dark Mindscape?

Remus wordlessly led Remy over to the hallway he was planning to clean, and Remy found himself surveying the bedroom doors. They were all uniquely decorated, each one specialized for the Side that lived there. It looked like something out of a fantasy movie.

Or a horror movie, seeing as the floor and most of the doors were marred by several rust-colored scratches.

“So…” Remus began idly as he started cleaning the door to what Remy assumed was Patton’s room. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Remy took a sip of his latte, attempting to buy himself a few moments to think. However, after a couple of seconds passed in silence, he sighed and leaned against the wall, finally allowing himself to ask the question haunting his mind.

“How do you think Anxiety knew about ducking out?”

Remus paused in his cleaning for a second, the damp rag frozen over the wood. A moment later, he resumed as though nothing had occurred. “Why do you care how he knows? Maybe the Lights told him or something.”

Remy frowned. “But Jay said that he and Patton were the only ones who knew about the whole thing, and I know I haven’t talked to him recently or anything, but I really can’t see Morality willingly talking about something so…heavy.”

Remus kept his eyes trained on the door. “Emphasis on the _or something_. Besides, people can surprise you. I doubt anyone other than you and Jay would be able to see me as anything more than a madman, but here we are!” he exclaimed with forced cheer in his voice.

Remy sighed and closed his eyes, sliding down the wall. “Yeah…” he muttered. “Maybe you’re right, babe.”

He had no idea what to make of the whole…situation. Of the Dark Sides, he had probably had the least contact with the Light Sides since the second Split, and that had been over two decades ago. On one hand, he could more than detect the overall sense of _wrongness_ in the air—after all, reconciling the mental image of the happy children he had once known with adults experiencing so much turmoil, they resorted to the most drastic actions possible to alleviate it—calling it disturbing would be an understatement.

On the other hand, he did not know the Light Sides. Not anymore. Not after…everything.

He was the only Dark Side who could have chosen to stay with the Light Sides, and who could have returned to them at any moment and been accepted with open arms.

Remy always refused.

But now, he did not know _what_ to feel in regards to…everything. The only thing he knew for certain was that it hurt him to watch his family in pain, as much as they refused to admit it. It even hurt him to see _Anxiety_ in pain, although Janus and Remus would probably tell him not to be concerned about it. 

However, he could not simply let it go. The others may disapprove of his concern for Anxiety, but several clues were starting to suggest that the Dark Sides were all missing some major pieces of information about him, and the picture being painted was looking rather ugly….

* * *

Janus rose up by the curtains to be greeted with the sight of Thomas sitting on his couch, eating a sandwich. He seemed to be in far better spirits than the previous day, which was a pleasant observation. However, Janus’s heart sank upon remembering that he was about to ruin that good mood with his bad news.

Well, this was _certainly_ going to be an enjoyable experience.

“Thomas?” he called softly, careful to keep his voice steady. 

Thomas snapped his head toward Janus, surprise colored his features. “Oh, hey De—I mean, Janus,” he said, looking mildly embarrassed at his slip-up.

Janus managed a faint smile in response. “Good afternoon, Thomas. How have you been feeling today?”

Thomas chuckled. “As opposed to the _actual garbage fire_ that I was yesterday?”

Janus hesitated before letting out a laugh and shrugging. He did not want to say it directly, but that was a fairly accurate representation of Thomas’s mental health on the previous day. And today, for that matter, given the whole _all-the-Light-Sides-ducked-out_ incident.

“…Yes?”

“Better, I’d say,” Thomas grinned.

Janus nodded. “Good, that’s…that’s good…” he muttered. Well, with greetings out of the way, it was time to, as Remus would probably say, bite the bullet.

Actually, no—there was no way Remus would say that without some sort of violent visual to accompany it.

“Janus?”

He snapped his attention back to Thomas, who was studying him with a slightly worried frown. “Everything okay?”

Janus winced. This was not how he wanted the conversation to go, but it happened to be just the opening he needed. “That is…actually what we wanted to talk to you about,” he started carefully.

Thomas looked confused. _“We?”_

Janus took a deep breath. _Moment of truth._ “Thomas, can you summon Roman and Logan? As strongly as you can manage, please. This is urgent.” As the Manifestor, if Thomas summoned one of his Sides with enough force, he could override the locks on their rooms and Mindscapes. If Roman and Logan had not ducked out, he would be able to pull them out into the world.

“Uh, sure, I guess?” Thomas cleared his throat, worry written all over his features. “Hey Roman, Logan—can you guys get in here?”

Silence. Janus’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest.

“Guys…?” Thomas asked hesitantly when no one responded. He looked over to Janus, panicking slightly. “I don’t understand—what’s going on?”

“Can you summon”— _Anxiety?_ —“Virgil?” Janus asked, avoiding Thomas’s question entirely. Saying Anxiety’s true name left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he refused to acknowledge it. _Now is not the time._

“…Sure?” A wave of a hand, and Anxiety appeared in the room.

Janus stifled a gasp. Thomas _actually_ gasped.

Remy had taken the initiative to clean and wrap Anxiety’s hands when he was unconscious, but the bandages were once again torn and bloody. All the old cuts had been reopened, and there were several more wounds that Janus knew had not been present before. It was almost like he had chosen to take his anger out on another wall—

Actually, that was not an entirely unreasonable conclusion.

“Virgil?” Thomas yelled, shooting to his feet. “What _happened_?!”

The Side in question lifted his head, revealing his expression to be one of bitter hatred, almost identical to the one he had been wearing just before shifting into his Instinct Form. Virgil was still in his pajamas, which were now stained at the knees with his own blood—it looked like he had just committed a murder.

“That’s what I’d like to know, Deceit,” Anxiety spat. “Thomas is here, so _let’s talk_.”

Janus winced. _Oh dear, this is not going to go very well._ Earlier, he had told Anxiety that he was not fully aware of the events of the previous evening, seeing as he did not arrive until halfway through the conversation—both of which were _technically_ true facts—and asked if they could wait until they had Thomas present to begin sharing information.

It _totally_ had nothing to do with the fact that he was genuinely worried Anxiety would lose control and attack him if he got angry enough. In that hypothetical situation, he would be able to stand his ground, of course, but he did not represent self-preservation for nothing.

Janus turned to Thomas. “You might want to sit down for this.”

Thomas looked worried. “No, just tell me what’s going on!”

“Thomas…” Anxiety began, voice low. “We _really_ need to talk about what happened yesterday.”

“ _Why_? What’s going on? Why can’t I summon Roman and Logan?”

**“Because they ducked out!”**

Janus and Thomas both jumped at the sound of Tempest Tongue and shot their heads toward Anxiety, whose still-bleeding hands were clenched into fists. 

Janus threw a careful glance at his Host. “Thomas, do you know what—”

**“Of course he knows what ducking out is,** ” Anxiety snapped, although his voice was already growing less distorted. _Good._ The last thing he needed right now was for Anxiety to shift and give Thomas _another_ crisis.

A small voice at the back of his head repeated the question of how Thomas knew what ducking out was. How _Anxiety_ knew what it was. But the larger, more vocal part scolded him to stop stalling and just get on with the conversation.

“In that case, Thomas, we should probably discuss—”

“I’m sorry, just—hold on a second,” Thomas cut in, looking shocked. Janus shut his mouth and gave Thomas a patient nod. 

“Okay,” Thomas finally said, laughing nervously. “So, correct me if I’m wrong, but you guys are making it sound like Roman and Logan _both_ ducked out…”

“They did,” Janus said as gently as he could. “And…I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Patton did too.”

The expression on Thomas’s face could only be described as one of complete and utter horror.

Anxiety cleared his throat. “We need to go over everything that all of us saw yesterday,” he said, his voice rough but no longer distorted. “We have to decide where to go from here.”

Thomas nodded slowly, the realization sinking in. “Okay, so…this is what happened after we left the wedding…”

He went on to describe, in great detail, the events that had gone down, going from immediately after he had arrived at his apartment to when Janus left for the evening. Anxiety went next, explaining his meager interactions with the Light Sides before and during the wedding. Janus went last, seeing as most of his story aligned with Thomas’s. However, there were a few details that Thomas had been unaware of, namely the fact that Janus was the one to drag Logan out of the episode.

Apparently, that was the final straw for Anxiety, who now quite literally looked like he wanted to commit a murder. 

“Wait—” Anxiety growled, eyes glowing dangerously. Out of the corner of his eye, Janus saw Thomas take a step back. “Are you telling me that on _camera_ , you _literally yanked Logan out of the conversation_ , threw the _worst insult possible_ in the face of Roman, who you _knew_ was already _very_ insecure, and made Patton question his _entire existence_?”

Janus winced, suddenly very grateful for the fact that Sides could not die. “That was _definitely_ my intention when I went up there—”

_“Your intention doesn’t matter, Deceit!”_ Anxiety screamed. “You _literally_ drove them to the point of no return! Because of you, my entire family is _gone_!”

Thomas put his hands up in a placating manner. “C’mon, Virge, maybe we should hear Janus out—”

“Quit using his name!” Anxiety snarled. “He’s _Deceit_ , and nothing more!” 

…That _totally_ did not hurt. Not at all.

“Virgil!” Thomas snapped. Both Sides gave pause at that, surprised to hear the Manifestor raise his voice. They stood still as Thomas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Virge,” he finally said. “I get that you’re upset, but you can’t keep blaming Janus. Yeah, he made mistakes, but it’s not like he did anything on purpose.”

Anxiety stared at Thomas, incredulous. “Wait, seriously? You’re taking _his_ side?” Thomas spluttered and opened his mouth, but Anxiety cut him off. “Okay, you know what?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air and laughing bitterly. “I’m done here. I’m _so fucking done_. While you all trade names and secrets, I’m gonna to actually _do_ something about this situation, because in case you hadn’t noticed, Thomas, you just lost your fucking Logic, Morality, _and_ Creativity!”

With that, Anxiety sunk out, leaving a shaken Thomas and stunned Janus behind.

Thomas was the first to break the silence. “Janus…” he began slowly. “Virgil has a point—I mean, what’s my life going to be like now? Like, without any logic, morals, and creativity, how am I going to keep acting? How will I start behaving? How are we going to get the others back?”

“Thomas—” Janus cut in, concern furrowing his brow. “We still have time. We have about a week before the full effects of the ducking out will be visible.”

Thomas sighed. “So, we have a week to figure out how to get them back?”

Janus was surprised. _Get them back._ Thomas was being surprisingly optimistic about such a bleak situation. However, that was not completely a bad thing. At least one of them was still hopeful.

“A week to figure out how to get you back to normal,” he agreed. “And yes, if we’re lucky, a week to figure out how to get the Light Sides back.”

* * *

The duo began researching information on Manifestors and Aspects—more commonly known as Sides—immediately. At first, the only information they found was the bare minimum—Manifestors were rare people with the ability to manifest their personality traits as people; Manifestors made up less than a thousandth of a percent of the population worldwide; although the existence of Manifestors was not exactly a secret, outside of them, their families, and the government, very, _very_ few people were aware of their existence; blah, blah, blah. Most people just assumed Manifestors were some sort of legend.

After all, there was a reason most people wrote off _Sanders Sides_ as nothing more than a funny web series—well, that, and the few tweaks Thomas went out of his way to make, such as pretending that the Sides were purely imaginary.

However, beyond basic textbook information, there was not much to be found on the subject of Sides, let alone Sides ducking out. That was not to say, though, that there was no interesting information whatsoever.

“Hey, Janus?” 

Janus looked up from the article he was reading on his laptop. “Did you find something?”

“Yeah—well, it’s not about the ducking out, but about something to do with your…your ages?” Thomas asked, looking from his laptop with an expression of confusion.

“Ah,” Janus murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips. He was mildly surprised that none of the Light Sides had explained the topic to Thomas before, but he supposed that it was not exactly an ordinary conversation topic. “Sides have a tendency to age in an… _interesting_ way.”

“It says that in here too, but what exactly does that mean?” Thomas asked, scratching his head.

Janus laughed lightly at the expression on his face, so similar to the one Logan wore as a child. Back when he was more open about his enthusiasm for learning. Back when things were simpler. “All right, so what do you know about the formation of Sides?”

“Um…” Thomas thought for a moment. “You’re either born with them, or you aren’t. All Mianifestors are born with at least one Side, and the others can develop at any time before the Manifestor turns thirteen. The Sides have innate knowledge of their roles and their Manifestor, but they don’t learn their names until the Manifestor turns thirteen. They can’t manifest or be summoned until then either.” 

Janus smiled as he remembered how shocked Thomas had been on the morning of his thirteenth birthday, waking up to find Patton eagerly standing over him. “That is correct. Now, it might be easier to just tell you our ages and see if you can figure out the pattern yourself. Ready?”

Thomas nodded.

“Okay—you were born with both Patton and I, and Patton and I are the only two Sides that are your age. Logan formed a year later, and he is one year younger than us. Roman and Remus _technically_ formed when you were three, and they are three years younger than you and I, and two years younger than Logan. Do you see the pattern?”

“Yeah, but that’s really simple,” Thomas said. “It’s basically how humans age. Why does the article say it’s so complicated?

“Patton and I were born as thirteen year-olds.”

_That_ got Thomas’s attention. 

“Wait, _what_?” he asked. “Then…how are we the same age? Shouldn’t you be older than me?”

“We didn’t actually start aging until you turned thirteen.”

Thomas nodded slowly, expression thoughtful. “So, Sides all form as thirteen year-olds?”

“Not quite,” Janus chuckled. “We all physically match our actual ages. Logan formed as a twelve year-old, for instance, and he did not start aging until your thirteenth birthday. By then, he was actually twelve years old.”

“Okay, so that would mean…Roman formed as a ten-year old, right?” Thomas asked, starting to grasp the pattern. 

“Exactly,” Janus nodded, a proud smile on his lips. “Sides form at the ages they _will_ be on their Manifestor’s thirteenth birthday, and they don’t start aging until they reach that day. The numbers add up.”

Thomas was grinning now. “So what about Virgil?”

And _there_ went the happy mood.

“He formed last, and he’s about six years younger than you and I,” Janus said, deliberately avoiding saying _his_ name.

“So he really is the baby! I can see why Patton calls him his son.”

Janus chose to ignore that last comment.

The pair returned to their silent research, but unfortunately for them, there was little to no information available about ducking out. It was another hour before Thomas spoke up again.

“Wait— _what_?!”

Janus glanced up at the alarmed tone. “Something wrong?”

Thomas appeared to be faintly nauseated. “Okay, so I _finally_ found a post about ducking out, but it says that ducking out is permanent and then it went on to describe how it was basically suicide and—and what the actual _fuck_?”

Janus paused as he mentally ran through Thomas’s words. “Well, it is _supposed_ to be permanent, but there are exceptions to everything,” he said, choosing to ignore the comment about suicide. _That_ was a particularly complicated matter. “That’s why we’re looking for loopholes right now.”

“Yeah, but…but ducking out _isn’t_ permanent,” Thomas insisted. At the sight of his stricken expression, Janus felt his blood run cold _._

He was missing something here.

“Thomas…” he began, his brow creased with worry. “What…what exactly did you think that ducking out _was_?”

_“I don’t know!”_ Thomas exclaimed desperately, throwing his hands in the air. “I never _did_ think about it! I mean, like, when Virgil had ducked out, he ended up _fine_ , so I didn’t focus too much about the whole issue! Like—”

Thomas continued rambling, but Janus heard none of it. His heart had stopped at the sound of those five words.

_“…when Virgil had ducked out…”_

Virgil had done _what_?


	6. Digging up the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil shines light on the history of the Dark Sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: ARGUING, FOOD MENTION, SELF-HATRED
> 
> Chapter Theme Song: Go to War by Nothing More

No.

_No._

There was absolutely no— _fucking_ —way—

“Janus?”

Janus snapped his gaze toward Thomas, who wore an expression of baffled horror. 

“Janus,” Thomas begged him in earnest. “ _Please_ —what am I missing here? What happened to the Light Sides?”

Janus stared blankly at the Manifestor, thoughts racing wildly. How did he not know about this? How did _none_ of the Dark Sides know about this? How was he going to tell Remus and Remy that Virgil had tried—had tried to—

_“Virgil!”_ he yelled. _“Remus! Remy!”_

The three of them appeared in quick succession—Virgil in his usual spot, Remus in the corner, and Remy by the stairs. Thomas startled at the sudden influx of Sides and did a complete double take when he saw Remy. “What the hell is going on?” he repeated, sounding desperate.

Janus did not answer, his attention focused on the others. Remy was looking around, disoriented, and Janus felt a pang of guilt for summoning him so suddenly, seeing as it was his first time in the real world. Remus, meanwhile, simply looked confused, and Virgil looked annoyed—however, as Janus ran his eyes over the youngest, he found himself somewhat relieved to see that he had put on clean clothes and bandaged his hands.

Remus was the first to recover from the shock of the sudden summons. “Jay, what the actual _fuck_ is happening?” he asked.

Janus did not answer, his gaze glued to Virgil. _What brought him to the point of ducking out? Why didn’t the stupid_ Light Sides _stop him? And if he ducked out, how is he even_ here _right now?_

“Thomas,” he finally managed to force out. “Can you please repeat what you just told me?”

Thomas shifted uncomfortably. “Uh—when Virgil ducked out, we were able to get him back?” he repeated hesitantly, his voice rising toward the end as though he was asking a question.

The reaction was instantaneous. Remus’s expression went slack, and Remy dropped his coffee mug. Luckily, the mug was empty and somehow managed to not shatter as it hit the floor.

“You…you did _what_?!” Remus shouted, rounding his attention on Virgil. Remy stood frozen, his features painted with horror. Thomas was staring at Remy, but the other was far too out of it to notice.

Virgil shot a glare at the Dark Sides, not even looking surprised. “Oh, suddenly you _care_?” he asked bitterly. “Funny, because last I checked, you were pretty eager to get rid of me!”

“Woah—hold up!” Thomas cut in, putting a hand up. “Can someone _please_ explain what is happening here?!”

Janus, Remus, and Remy all looked over to Virgil, who rolled his eyes and glanced over to Thomas. “Look, Thomas, it’s not a big de—”

_“No!”_ Janus blurted out. “No, Virgil, we _need_ to talk about this! I don’t care about our history right now—what I _do_ care about is the fact that you apparently committed the most drastic act that Sides are capable of and never told us about it!”

Virgil gave a mirthless laugh. “Oh, really?” he asked. “I never _told_ you? You _actually_ believe that?”

_“Okay!”_ Thomas shouted. “Can we all just…slow down for a few minutes? What does ducking out actually mean? How are we going to get the others back? And, no offense, but who are you?” The last question was directed toward Remy, who was still staring at Virgil in a daze.

“Fine! Thomas, you want an explanation?” Virgil asked bitterly. _“I’ll give you a fucking explanation.”_

* * *

The little boy opened the door.

He crept out of his bedroom and entered a long, well-lit hallway, shuffling his feet nervously and taking his time as he inched along the path. At the other end of the hallway was a large room, and he could hear two voices coming from inside.

_“Morality, I’ve already told you, Thomas needs to_ rest _!”_

Thomas.

_His Manifestor._

The little boy blinked at the sudden sense of recognition and longing that flooded his heart—a longing to protect; a longing for love, for approval. Motivated by his newfound determination, the boy squared his small shoulders and picked up the pace, his black sneakers almost silent against the floor.

As the boy stepped into the large room—some combination of a living room, a dining room, and a kitchen—he was greeted by the sight of two teenagers. _Giants._ The one on the left was dressed in a jeans and light blue T-shirt, a cardigan tied around his waist and a gray, cat-eared beanie on his head. The one on the right was dressed in more formal clothing—a yellow button-down shirt, black suspenders and dress pants, and a black bow tie. The little boy probably would have stood there and gawked at the pair had they not seemed to be arguing with one another.

He hesitated, his previous courage gone and doubt beginning to flood his mind— _Should I leave? Should I listen to what the giants are saying? Will I get in trouble if they see me?_

“Might I ask who you are?”

The little boy gave a muffled shriek and spun around. He was greeted with the sight of _another_ giant teenager, this one appearing to be slightly younger than the other two. The boy stumbled away from him— _Is he mad? Did I do something wrong? Was I supposed to stay in the room?_ —and fell into the large room, catching the attention of the arguing duo.

_Oh, no—the giants are all looking at me—_

“Hiya, Kiddo!” yelled the giant in light blue, a massive grin splitting his face as he ran over to the little boy. The boy flinched away and the giant in yellow clicked his tongue, walking over with a slower pace.

“Morality, you should _definitely_ keep getting in the child’s face; there is _no way_ that you could _possibly_ be making him uncomfortable,” the giant in yellow chided, his voice quieter than it had been during the argument.

The little boy swallowed. He wanted to tell the three giants that the one in yellow was wrong—that the giant in light blue _was_ making him uncomfortable—but he was not sure which words to use. What if he said it wrong and made them angry?

Luckily, the giant in light blue stepped back. The third giant cleared his throat. “Might we ask who you are?” he repeated. The little boy paused to take in his appearance—he was dressed in a dark blue suit, a black shirt, and a dark blue tie. 

_Why is everyone dressed so fancy? Was_ I _supposed to dress fancy? But wait—the giant in light blue is not—_

“Now, Logic, don’t be rude!” the giant in light blue scolded the one in dark blue— _Logic?_ —who rolled his eyes.

“I was not being rude, I was merely inquiring as to…”

As the two giants bickered, the one in yellow sighed, walking around the pair and kneeling across from the boy, careful to keep a few feet of distance between them.

“Hello there, darling,” the giant in yellow said softly, slowly offering his hand as though the little boy was a scared animal. “My name is Deceit. Are you okay with telling me your name?”

Maybe it was the way he spoke—the smooth, velvety tone of his voice that was so different from the tone of the giant in light blue—or maybe it was the way he respected his boundaries—the way he had kept his distance and given him a choice. Either way, the little boy had the instinctive feeling that he could trust the giant in yellow. He slowly lifted his own hand and placed it in the hand of the giant, allowing the other to gently pull him to his feet.

“I’m Anxiety.”

* * *

The Mindscape was tense.

Once again, Morality and Deceit were arguing like an old married couple, but this time, the twins were throwing in their own two cents.

“You heard Morality!” the Prince yelled, hands on his hips. “We need to make the _right_ choice!” 

Anxiety winced at the raised voices. The Prince may have been one of the younger Sides, but he was still three years older than Anxiety and very intimidating, especially at the moment.

Deceit snarled. “In case you haven’t noticed, _Prince_ , Thomas is going to end up in _much_ more trouble if we make him tell the truth! Sometimes, what’s right is subjective!”

“Don’t you dare yell at me with words I don’t know, _Deceit_!”

Serenity was sitting cross-legged on the couch next to Anxiety, holding his hand and whispering reassurances. There may have been a one-year age difference between the two, but they acted more like brothers than the Prince and the Duke themselves—the Creativitwins—did.

“Just focus on me, Anxiety,” Serenity said calmly, and Anxiety felt a sense of tranquility run through his senses. He opened his mouth to thank his friend, when—

_“Enough!”_

Anxiety yanked his hand away and snapped his head toward the others. Logic was hovering awkwardly in the corner. The Duke and Deceit were standing in the center of the room, the Prince and Morality directly across from them, and—

And Morality was _angry_. 

“You all are _hurting_ Thomas!” Morality continued. He pointed at Deceit. “You keep making him tell lies, but lying is _bad_! It’s _wrong_!” He turned his gaze on the Duke. “You keep making him think _horrible_ thoughts—those things are gonna get him in trouble one of these days!” Morality then glanced around the room, as though he was looking for someone, and— _oh_.

Anxiety shrunk under his gaze.

“And Kiddo, I know you don’t mean to, but you keep holding Thomas back! You’re _hurting_ him! It’s not good for him to be scared all the time—he can’t do the right thing if you keep making him too afraid to do it!”

The youngest boy flinched back, horrified. He was _hurting Thomas_. Morality was saying he was _bad_.

The Prince scowled. “Thomas is _never_ going to be able to achieve _any_ of his dreams with you—you _villains_ standing in the way!”

Logic cleared his throat and took a step forward toward him. “While Prince’s use of ‘villains’ is rather harsh, I must admit that he has a point. The three of you may have your moments of usefulness, but frankly, you act as hindrances more often than not.”

Deceit’s eyes were glittering dangerously. “Oh, really?” he asked, voice quietly. “ _We_ are the hindrances? _Us_ , and not the Side who had Thomas run into a busy street to save a kitten the other day?!”

“It needed help!” Morality yelled. “It almost got run over!”

_“So did Thomas!”_ Deceit and the Duke shouted in unison. The latter stepped in front of the former protectively, a move that would have been adorable had the scene not been so tense. “Dee and Anxiety did Thomas a _favor_ by trying to stop him! I know I love blood, but I would really like it for Thomas to reach thirteen!”

“And _we_ would like it if you three disappeared, but you’re all still here!” the Prince shouted. The room fell silent, and Deceit sneered.

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm. “Logic? Morality? Is Prince here correct?”

Silence. Logic had his eyes trained on the wall, and Morality seemed to be taking great interest in the floor. The Duke scowled at the two.

Deceit let out a laugh, but it was far from mirthful. Anxiety actually felt a chill run down his spine.

“Very well, then,” he said. “Duke, are you ready to leave?” The Duke nodded, expression fierce.

“Don’t forget to take Anxiety!” the Prince shouted. Anxiety recoiled at the sheer amount of _hatred_ in his voice and Serenity frowned, pulling him into a hug.

“Don’t talk about him like that!” the Duke snapped, stepping closer to his brother. Deceit walked over to the two youngest boys, his expression softening slightly.

“Come along, Anxiety,” he said, offering a hand. “Clearly, none of us are welcome here. Duke and I are leaving, and something tells me you don’t want to stay here any longer than you have to.”

Anxiety hesitantly peeled himself away from Serenity and placed his hand in that of the older Side, allowing himself to be led away. Deceit, the Duke, and Anxiety took one last look around the room. 

This was really happening. They were leaving.

“Wait!”

Everyone spun their heads toward Serenity, who was watching the scene with a horrified expression. He glanced at Morality and Logic. “Are you seriously making them _leave_?”

Logic pushed up his glasses. “Technically, this decision is mutual. They are choosing to leave just as much as we are tell—”

_“Bullshit!”_

Everyone, even the Duke, who belted out far worse words on a daily basis, froze at the profanity. Morality was the first to recover. 

“Serenity!” he scolded. “We don’t say things like that!”

“No!” Serenity exclaimed, shooting to his feet and stomping his foot. “Logic is wrong! It’s not a mu—mutu—a whatever-that-word-is decision!” He pointed to Morality, Logic, and the Prince. “You three keep being mean to them! Of _course_ they want to leave! Even _I_ don’t want to be around you bullies!”

The Prince narrowed his eyes. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” he ordered Serenity. “You aren’t like _them_ , you’re like _us_! We aren’t _evil_ like…like _they_ are!”

Serenity scowled at him. “Yeah, you _are_! You are, and they _aren’t_! You three are being cruel, and if they’re leaving, I’m leaving, too! I don’t wanna live with you meanies, and I don’t wanna leave Anxie!”

The room was quiet, everyone taken aback by the bold proclamation. Deceit smiled faintly. “Very well, Serenity,” he said, breaking the silence. He held out his free hand. “Come along.”

Morality’s eyes widened. “Wait—hold on a second! You can’t just take him—”

“He’s not!” Serenity interrupted. “I’m leaving! Try and stop me, bitch!”

The Duke burst out laughing and the Prince stomped over to his brother.

“This is _your_ fault for teaching him bad words!”

Meanwhile, Morality kneeled down in front of Serenity. “Kiddo,” he pleaded. “C’mon, you don’t have to leave! I know you’ll miss Anxiety, but you would be _better_ if you stayed with us.”

“No.” Serenity lifted his chin defiantly. “I would _rather_ be with Anxie.”

The Side in question bit his nails nervously. The Prince looked angry, Logic looked neutral, and the Duke looked moments away from screaming out more curse words. Thus, Anxiety did the first thing his seven year-old mind thought of.

_“Fuck!”_

That caught everyone’s attention, the heads of all the older Sides swiveling toward him. In response, Anxiety buried his face in Deceit’s shirt. The shout had gotten everyone to be quiet, just like when Thomas saw a man shout it in the supermarket the other day. Unfortunately, just like the man at the supermarket, almost everyone was giving him a disapproving stare.

“Everyone’s quiet. Can we leave now?” Anxiety mumbled, pulling back and lifting his head to look up at Deceit. He was tired of listening to the Prince insult him; of listening to Logic and Morality lecture him on how to be better. If leaving meant he could finally be _happy_ , then he wanted to get out as soon as possible.

Deceit smirked. “I don’t see why not.”

The Duke walked over, taking Serenity’s other hand and giving Deceit a nod. Deceit gave Logic, Morality, and the Prince a final, sardonic smile before sinking out and taking the younger three with him.

They were gone.

* * *

“Duke, why are you even _asking_ about this?”

Anxiety paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob to Serenity’s room. It had been about two years since they had run away from the “Light Sides,” as the others were now known, and while he was not as close to the Duke and Deceit as he was to Serenity, he was starting to grow rather fond of them. At the very least, he had a much stronger relationship with them than he had ever had with Morality.

He heard the Duke respond to Deceit, too soft for him to make out, and hesitated, torn between going into his best friend’s room and listening to what the others were saying. In the end, curiosity won out, and he crept toward the common area so he could hear them better.

“C’mon, Dee! I’m just curious!” the Duke exclaimed. “I know Sides can’t _die_ -die or anything, but can we fade? What if Thomas _wants_ us to fade? Could he will us out of existence or something?”

Anxiety’s eyes widened as fear coiled in his gut. Could they fade? _Would_ they fade? What if Thomas didn’t like the Dark Sides, then what would—

“Fine!” Deceit yelled, his exasperated tone snapping Anxiety out of his stupor. “No, we _cannot_ fade, even if Thomas wants us to. The closest thing we can do is something called ducking out.”

“What’s—”

“Duke, this is the closest that Sides can come to death. Are you _sure_ you want to know about this?”

“Do octopuses have beaks?” Anxiety could hear a smirk in the Duke’s voice.

Deceit paused. “Wait, octopuses have—never mind. Fine,” he grumbled. Anxiety crept closer, peeking into the room. The Duke was laying upside down on the couch, and Deceit was facing him, his back to Anxiety. “Ducking out is when a Side cuts themselves off from Thomas. If you duck out, you lose the ability to influence Thomas and interact with any other Sides.”

“So, how does it work?” the Duke asked.

Deceit did not answer.

“Aw, come on, Dee!” the Duke pleaded. “It’s not like I’m going to _do_ it or anything! I’m just curious!”

Deceit pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. _Fine_!” he exclaimed. “To duck out, you need to gather all your belongings, keep them in your room, and vanish your bedroom door. Doing so will allow you to travel freely between your room and your Mindscape, but you will not be able to get out, and no one else will be able to get back in. The process _is_ reversible, but until then, you are completely alone.”

“So, like death?”

Deceit groaned. “That…is very complicated. On one hand, a Side could duck out for a few days, come back, and consider it as simple as taking a vacation from coworkers. On the other hand, a Side could duck out forever and consider it suicide. However, ducking out is _not_ something to mess around with, nor is it something to do lightly. I never want to see _any_ of you, not even the _Light Sides_ , ducking out. Am I clear?” he hissed vehemently.

The Duke kicked himself off the couch and landed on the floor with a thud. “Crystal. But what if—”

“Yes, _please_ keep asking about this subject. It’s _totally_ something I want to keep talking about. And I definitely _won’t_ behead you if you mention anything about this to the others.”

Understanding that the conversation was basically over, Anxiety crept back down the hall and into Serenity’s room, quietly pulling out an extra blanket and pillow from his closet.

He did not know what that s-word—sui-something—meant, but he would look it up tomorrow.

* * *

It had taken about a year for their animal traits to fully grow in.

As nine year-old Virgil looked himself over, he felt a small bubble of pride fill his chest. He now had two black, cat-like ears, a long, thin tail, and extremely-sharp canines and claws. 

His traits were that of a cat, but not a simple house cat. No—he was a black panther. 

He was fight or flight.

He was a _protector_.

Janus had grown snake traits, such as the scales covering the left side of his body, his snake eye, some fangs, and—for some reason—six arms. Remus had grown octopus arms— _not tentacles,_ he reminded them on a daily basis—and suckers on the pads of his fingertips and toes. Somnus only had one trait—wings—which would normally have been something he would be excited about, if not for the fact that—

“Why are they _dove_ wings?!” Somnus mourned for what must have been the thousandth time. Virgil rolled his eyes at the winged Side across the room.

“Yes, it makes perfect sense to complain about the _type_ of wings you have rather than appreciating the fact that you _have_ wings at all,” Janus teased as he helped straighten out the white feathers. 

“But they completely clash with my aesthetic!” 

“Suck it up, Sandman,” Remus said as he slurped up the spaghetti Janus had cooked that day. “Or if you hate them so much, just shift.”

About two months after their traits had started to grow in, they had learned that they could shift between their human form and their animalistic form at will. However, their traits would automatically reveal themselves when they needed to increase their influence on Thomas; a state that was dubbed their “Instinct Form.”

Janus’s explanation for the change was that, with Thomas going through puberty, his Subconscious—or the Dark Mindscape, as Janus was now insisting they call it—was forcing them to experience changes in their own development. After all, their Instinct Forms were not arbitrary—they matched their titles very well.

_“Somnus, put the hair dye down!”_

_“If I’m gonna have wings, then I’m gonna make them look cool, so try and stop me, Snake Face!”_

Virgil laughed and rolled his eyes, sharing a fond look with Remus before looking down and fiddling with the bright friendship bracelet around his wrist. Yellow, green, orange, and purple.

Janus, Remus, Somnus, and him.

They had gone from awkward housemates to best friends, and from best friends to family.

They did not need the Light Sides to be complete.

They were brothers, and they were all each other needed.

* * *

It started with a small tug.

At first, Virgil assumed it was an involuntary summons from one of the Light Sides. Those had happened numerous times in the past, but he had always ignored them. After all, he had no desire to talk to the very people who hated his guts—even if the feeling was mutual.

However, the tug was persistent, and that was when Virgil had started to get worried. It was also growing stronger. _Much_ stronger.

When he told the others about it, Janus had sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. At first, Virgil panicked, thinking he might have done something wrong, but Janus was quick to reassure him that he was not annoyed with _him_ , but with the Light Sides. Then, he said the five words that changed Virgil’s life.

“The summons are from Thomas.”

Virgil was hit with a rush of giddy excitement and paralyzing fear. On one hand, _the summons were from Thomas_. His Manifestor. The man he literally existed to protect.

On the other hand, Virgil knew that the Light Sides had already started speaking to Thomas. 

The same Light Sides that absolutely hated his guts.

Given how their influence on Thomas was viewed, Janus had been forced to hide the Dark Sides from Thomas once he turned thirteen. With Patton in charge—the Light Sides were _way_ more open with their names than the Dark Sides were—revealing themselves would most likely give Thomas a crisis. The Dark Sides may not have _wanted_ to hide themselves, but they all knew that it was necessary—besides, the Light Sides would be _very_ angry if they revealed themselves, and as unfortunate as it was, they all knew Thomas would believe the Light Sides over the Dark Sides in a heartbeat.

But now Thomas was summoning _him_.

Anxiety.

Virgil’s biggest dream may have been to meet his Manifestor, but that did not outweigh his unwillingness to speak to the Light Sides again.

However, it soon became clear that he would not have a choice in the matter.

Virgil knew that Janus had tried—he had noticed the weary sighs; the late nights and drained cups of coffee—to keep him hidden, and he appreciated it.

But it was not enough.

One moment, he was watching a horror movie with Somnus, and the next, he was sitting on a staircase that he never thought he would be able to see in person.

_Oh, shit._

“Are…are you the Side in charge of fear?” Thomas was the first to speak, his face pale. Virgil felt an involuntary smile grace his lips at his first sight of his Manifestor in his eighteen years of existence, but before he could say anything, Roman spoke up.

“Ugh. Black clothes, dark eyeshadow, and messy hair. Thomas, meet the absolute _monstrosity_ that is Anxiety.”

Those words stung much more than Virgil would ever care to admit. _Glad to see that all these years later, you’re still a douche, Princey._

“So, wait,” Thomas said, and Virgil had to stop himself from snapping his head toward him like a dog toward the sight of a squirrel. “ _You’re_ the one who keeps giving me crazy amounts of stress?!”

Virgil put his palms in the air. “Yeah, no. I’m the one who keeps you _safe_. I’m the one who makes sure you actually use your common sense, since the others seem to forget about it.”

Logan frowned. “Technically speaking, you _do_ , at times, tend to burden Thomas with your input.”

“Clearly _that_ hasn’t changed a bit,” Roman muttered. 

Virgil shrugged, trying to mask his internal pain. “Better safe than sorry, Thomas.” He would do anything to keep Thomas safe, even if it meant the being on the receiving end of the others’ hatred. No one could accidentally set the kitchen on fire if they were constantly watching the oven. 

_Wait—_

_“Thomas, did you turn the oven off?”_ he snapped.

Thomas’s eyes widened, but before he could run over and check, Logan nodded for him. “He turned it off as soon as he finished preparing those _extraordinarily unhealthy boxed cupcakes_ —”

“You know I can’t cook, Logic!” Thomas exclaimed, though it was clear he was trying to hide a smile. “Everyone else is cooking _something_ for the potluck, so this is the least I can do.”

Something in Virgil twisted at that statement—the Light Sides all knew Thomas; they all spoke to him on a regular basis. They had an understanding of him, and he of them, even if he did not know their names.

But with Virgil—

“Anyway, Anxiety,” Thomas spoke up, turning his attention back to him and seeming more confident than before. “Can you, like, ease up or something?”

He blinked. “I’m…sorry?”

“C’mon, Kiddo,” Patton said, speaking for the first time. Virgil resisted the urge to hiss at him. “Can’t you give Thomas a little break? He has dinner with his friends tonight! You don’t wanna ruin it for him, do you?”

_“You keep holding Thomas back!”_

Virgil scowled. “Is _that_ what you called me here for? Just to scold me again?”

Thomas shook his head. “ _I_ called you here, Anxiety, because you’re getting out of hand. I wanted to tell you to leave me alone. I might have anxiety, but I’m stronger than you. I don’t _need_ you. And I’m certainly not afraid of you.”

Virgil felt something inside of him shatter—some childish hope of being able to bond with his Manifestor; to be appreciated. 

Once again, he was just a villain.

“Got it, Emo Nightmare?” Roman asked, folding his arms across his chest. “Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Virgil muttered, sinking out and collapsing in his bedroom. 

He was never leaving the Dark Mindscape again.

* * *

Virgil awoke to the sound of rapid knocking on his door. 

“Anxiety, could you turn down the music?” Logan called to him. “You are making it hard for the rest of us to focus on our work.”

Virgil groaned and rubbed his eyes before realizing his phone was still connected to the large speakers that Remus had gifted to him a few years ago. “Fine…” he grumbled, shutting off the music.

He still saw the Dark Sides on a daily basis, seeing as he spent almost every waking moment in the Dark Mindscape, but he could not deny that there were a few things that he missed about having his room there—namely, his ability to blast his music to his heart’s content.

One year ago, on the faithful day of his first meeting with Thomas, Virgil had appeared in his room and collapsed on his bed, just like always. However, a few hours later, Janus had appeared, face pale and expression slack. Wordlessly, he sunk both of them out to the common area of the Dark Mindscape and dragged Virgil to his bedroom—or, at least, the place where his bedroom door had _used_ to be.

“Although he may not like you,” Janus had told him, “Thomas has accepted that you are a part of him, meaning…I am no longer able to keep your room in the Dark Mindscape.”

Virgil had been _pissed_. For years, his interactions with the Light Sides could be counted on one hand, and suddenly, he was going to be _living_ with them? The same people who also happened to _hate his guts_?

Apparently so.

To make matters worse, Thomas and the other Light Sides soon started a habit of summoning and scolding him for any stress Thomas faced, and those interactions were quickly starting to wear him down.

After checking the time on his phone, Virgil got dressed and sunk out into the Dark Mindscape—his _real_ home—for breakfast—

—and was immediately met with a pillow in the face.

“Did I miss anything?” Virgil asked, amused.

_“Virgil!”_ Somnus, the holder of the pillow, whined. “Tell Remus to call me by my new name!”

Virgil blinked. Then blinked again. 

“Wait, _what_?” he asked, sure that he was hearing the other wrong.

Somnus grinned. “Yeah, that’s right, babe! I finally found a name that’s actually _good_!”

Virgil turned to the older two for an explanation. While it was no secret that Somnus disliked his name, they were _Sides_. Their names were assigned to them, and there was nothing that any of them could about it.

Remus rolled his eyes. “I called him ‘Remy’ as a _joke_ , because, you know, one of his jobs is Thomas’s sleep, and the REM cycle is a part of that, and now he—”

“And _now_ ,” Somnus—no, _Remy_ —cut in proudly. “I have decided that my new name is Remy Serenity Sanders. You may clap.”

Janus snorted. Remus rolled his eyes. Virgil stifled a laugh.

Remy wilted at their reactions. “So…is that a no?”

Virgil smirked and walked over to him. “I don’t think your name can officially be changed, but we’ll call you whatever you want to be called… _Remy_.”

Remy froze, then grinned like a child on Christmas. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Virgil laughed. No matter what happened, no matter how badly the Light Sides might treat him, he would _always_ have his family by his side, and that was enough for him. 

* * *

Ducking out was surprisingly anticlimactic.

Virgil was laying in his bed, curled into a tight little ball. Exactly one week ago, he had gathered all his belongings and vanished his bedroom door. Exactly one week ago, he had disconnected himself from Thomas completely.

Of course, he missed the other Sides terribly—both the Dark Sides _and_ the Light Sides. 

But…they were better off without him.

The Light Sides would probably be thrilled when they found out. After all, it turned out that Patton had been right, all those years ago. 

_“You keep holding Thomas back! You’re_ hurting _him!”_

Thomas hated him, and Virgil would be a fool to think otherwise. His Manifestor had _punched him in the face_. It might have been a cartoon, but Thomas had still labelled him a villain, forced him to fly, and punched. Him. In. The. Face.

For even his _Manifestor_ to hate him—the very person he existed to serve and protect—then that must mean that he was purely unloveable. He was just a nuisance.

However, Virgil could not deny that a small part of him wondered whether any of the Dark Sides missed him. Whether Janus, Remus, and Remy still would want him back. 

Would they be happy to find him gone? If Thomas hated him, _truly_ hated him, would they eventually turn on him, too?

Virgil did not want to stick around long enough to find out.

Emotionally exhausted, Virgil pulled his blanket tightly around his shoulders, wishing that Remy was here to help him sleep fall asleep.

However, just as he managed to drift off, he sensed someone—no, _several_ someones—entering his Mindscape. 

* * *

_“What are you doing in my room?!”_

* * *

As Virgil appeared in the Dark Mindscape, he was struck with the realization that he was feeling lighter than he had in _years_.

Since the first time he had met Thomas.

“Hey, guys!” he called out, surveying the unusually empty common area. “Get in here, I have news! _Good_ news!” _For once._

It took a few moments for Janus, Remus, and Remy to wander in—a few moments that felt like an eternity to Virgil. “Hey, so I know that I haven’t seen you guys all week, but—” Virgil cut himself off when he saw the expressions of the others. _Oh, shit._ “What happened?”

Remus was the first to speak, his voice unusually cold. “Why don’t you tell us, _Anxiety_?”

Virgil felt his blood run cold at the title. “I…I don’t understand. What’s this about?” he asked, his heart hammering in his chest. _Would they…really be_ angry _about this?_ he asked himself, remembering all too late that Janus was capable of detecting his lies.

Speaking of Janus, the other was snarling, revealing the fangs he usually kept hidden. “Ah, because you _totally_ don’t know what we’re talking about.”

Virgil swallowed as Janus took a step closer. In all the years that he’d known him, he had never seen the other look so angry, or so…so….

_Betrayed._

“You were gone all _week_ ,” Janus continued, voice almost shaking with rage. “You never showed up, you never answered our summons, and you kept your room locked! And when I finally went up to the Light Mindscape to ask those stupid _Light Sides_ ”—he spat the title as though it were a dirty word—“for help, do you know what I saw?”

Virgil shook his head hesitantly, unsure of whether he actually wanted to hear the answer.

“I saw you sitting with…with _them_ , simply _hanging out_ , as though nothing had happened!” Janus snapped.

“I—I was going to come _back_ —” Virgil started, but Remus cut him off. 

“ _Really_ , Anxiety?” he asked, his voice dangerous. “A whole _week_ , no contact! Do you know how _worried_ we were? Do you even _care_?”

“Hey, quit it!” Virgil said defensively. “Of course I care! And I came back, didn’t I? It’s not like I went through with it!”

Janus laughed, but his voice held no warmth. “But you were _going_ to leave us. You were going to leave us without so much as a goodbye.”

Virgil fell silent, shame washing over him. After revealing his name to Thomas, he had sunk out into the Light Mindscape common area, hoping to thank the Light Sides for their intervention. However, before he could say anything, Patton herded him and the other two into the living room, claiming that they all needed to have a serious talk.

That had undoubtedly been one of the most tense conversations Virgil had ever participated in—something he had hoped he would never have to repeat. He and Patton had tentatively explained the concept of ducking out to Roman and Logan—Virgil had a feeling that their twin expressions of horror would haunt him until the end of his days. Logan had expressed how grateful he was that Virgil had ducked out incorrectly. Roman, meanwhile, had blurted out a slew of apologies the moment he realized just how extreme the situation had been. Virgil did not need Janus present to know that he had been sincere about each one.

The Light Sides really cared.

But in all the chaos, he had not even stopped to think about how the Dark Sides would react.

“At least I ended up coming back!” Virgil pleaded, searching for something, _anything_ to remove the look of betrayal from his oldest brother’s face.

But Janus looked even more angry than appeased. “So, originally, you were _not_ going to come back?” he hissed, his voice taut as his eyes began to glow. “If you want out so badly, then why did you even _bother_ coming back?! Why couldn’t you have said something instead of, oh, I don’t know, _fucking abandoning us_?!”

Oh, shit, this was really, really bad. Janus and Remus were practically spitting fire, and Remy—

Remy would not even look at him. 

Virgil felt his heart crack. _Why did I ever think that ducking out was a good idea? Why didn’t I at least leave a_ note _?_

“I promise,” he begged. “I _promise_ , it was a mistake! I’m never gonna leave you guys like that again, I pro—”

_“Why should I listen to_ anything _you say?!”_ Janus snapped, his voice shrill. _“Are you_ happy _? Is this what you_ wanted _?”_

Virgil felt the anxious energy inside him unravel, desperate for an escape. _“I never wanted this!”_ he heard himself shout back.

“No!”

It was Remus who had spoken this time, gesturing to the woven bracelet that lay on his wrist. “We made that promise _before_ , Anxiety! We promised that we would _always_ be there for one another!” Remus stepped forward, his own eyes beginning to glow as tentacles sprouted from his back, jabbing his finger at Virgil’s chest. _“But—you—just—fucking—_ left _—us!”_

**“It was a mistake, okay?”** Virgil screamed, accidentally slipping into Tempest Tongue.

The room fell silent for a moment. Then, Janus laughed bitterly. 

“No,” he grinned. “ _No_ , you don’t get to leave and just come back whenever it suits you!” 

**“But—”**

_“No! Get out! Just—get_ out _!”_

_Get out._

Virgil felt a part of himself break at the words.

His family—the people whom he had held close, relied on, and loved for _years_ —they were telling him to leave.

_I shouldn’t have left._ Why _did I duck out?!_

“Fine.” His voice a brittle whisper, Virgil sunk out, reappearing in his room and feeling just as drained as he had the day Thomas first summoned him.

This time, there were no Dark Sides he could lean on for comfort.

Not that he cared what the Da—what _the Others_ thought. They wanted nothing to do with him? Fine.

_I don’t want them either!_

* * *

The next morning, if any of the Light Sides noticed the mangled, worn friendship bracelet in the trash can, none of them said a word.


	7. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and the Dark Sides make amends. However, their relationship cannot be fixed in a day. Meanwhile, Janus comes up with a plan to get the Light Sides back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: SELF-HATRED
> 
> Chapter Theme Song: I'll Be Okay by Nothing More

Remy stared at Virgil, his features slack with horror.

_He…he almost…my_ little brother _almost…._

It was no secret that out of the three remaining Dark Sides, Remy had taken the loss of Virgil the hardest. Janus had spent the weeks after his departure acting cold; almost hostile. Remus, on the other hand, had become much more withdrawn than usual. He took to spending long hours in his side of the Imagination, often returning to the Dark Mindscape well past midnight and covered in blood, dirt, and other suspicious substances. 

However, unlike the other two, Remy found himself trapped in an apathetic funk. His title may have been Serenity, but the first few weeks without Virgil were not peaceful; if anything, they were just…empty. Grappling with the fact that the very person he had sworn to protect at all costs, the person he had sworn he would _always_ stand beside, was gone forever—it had depleted his energy reserves entirely.

There would be no more late-night conversations. No more sass battles. No more….

_No more Virgil._

Those initial weeks were agonizing—it was like losing a part of himself. More than anything, Remy wanted to talk to Remus and Janus about the emotional storm ravaging his insides. However, it was also very clear that the other two were struggling with issues of their own, and Remy did not want to add to their burdens. 

Thus, time went on and their wounds began to scab over. With this, unfortunately, Remy noticed that Virgil was quickly becoming a taboo subject in the Dark Mindscape. He knew that if he asked, both Janus and Remus would sit him down and help him work through his feelings in a heartbeat, but Remy did not want to force them to deal with the issue when they were clearly not ready.

As a result, he kept his emotions to himself—and his theories. 

Remy knew Virgil. They had been best friends since they were kids, after all. So Remy knew more than anyone that the chances of Virgil just abandoning them—they were very, _very_ low. And the chances of Virgil leaving them for the _Light Sides_ , of all things? Zilch. Zero. Nada. There was no way in _hell_ that he would have just upped and left—at least, not without a very, _very_ good reason. 

But each explanation that Remy constructed was darker than the last.

In all honesty, he had hoped that he was wrong. He would gladly accept the pain of Virgil leaving if it meant that his younger brother did not suffer in the way that Remy suspected.

But then the wedding happened.

Ever since the second Split, Remy had hated the Light Sides with a fervent passion. It was not something he even bothered trying to hide. 

However, hating someone and actually wanting them dead were two _very_ different things. 

On top of that, finding out that _Virgil_ —his _little brother_ —had almost—almost—

“So, now you know, Thomas,” Virgil said with a humorless smile. “ _That_ is wh—”

All of a sudden, it did not even matter that they were surrounded—Remy ran over to Virgil and threw his arms around him, his fingers digging into the fabric of the soft hoodie.

_“Wha—”_

“What the absolute fucking _fuck_ were you thinking?!” Remy yelled, his voice sounding more choked than he would have liked. “You just—you thought that fucking _eternal isolation_ was the best way to handle the situation? You were going to _duck out_?!”

Remy felt Virgil stiffen in his arms. “Last I checked, none of you even cared!” he spat, his chest vibrating as he spoke. “You got mad at me for leaving! Hell, you threw me out!”

A noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob came from across the room. _“You fucking moron!”_ Remus screamed. Remy felt another pair of arms wrap around him and Virgil. “You—we—we thought—”

“We thought you were leaving us for the Light Sides!” Remy yelled, voice wavering. “We thought you didn’t want us anymore— _that’s_ why Jay told you to leave—”

“Why didn’t you just _tell_ us?!” Remus interrupted. “Why didn’t you _say_ something?”

Remy felt Virgil take a shuddering breath, thankfully not moving to pull away. “I—I thought—”

A gloved hand settled on both of their shoulders. “Virgil,” Janus interrupted quietly, his eyes glinting. “Did you think we made you leave because you ducked out?”

Virgil nodded, blinking rapidly and avoiding eye contact with everyone present. Janus slowly put a hand over his own mouth.

“Oh, my—Virgil, I—I am so _sorry_ —”

“Shut up and get in here, Snakey,” Remus cut in, grabbing Janus and yanking him into the hug. 

Things were not perfect—rather, they were far from it. But the Dark Sides were all together again, and right now, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Virgil, thoroughly stunned by the situation at hand, allowed Deceit to lead him over to the couch. Thomas was already seated on the cushion closest to the stairs, with Deceit between him and Virgil, who was in the corner. Serenity sat left of Virgil, with the Duke on his other side.

The mood of the room was—well, both _heartwarming_ and _awkward_ were rather apt descriptions.

Thomas was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat. “So, let me get this straight—”

“Good luck with that,” Virgil chimed in, speaking in unison with the Duke and Serenity. He shot a hesitant glance at the other two, unsure of where they currently stood, but their expressions were filled with nothing but amusement. On his other side, he noticed Deceit rolling his eyes fondly at the three of them.

“In that case,” Thomas said with a laugh, “tell me if I have this right—the Subconscious is another place in my head, and you started calling it the Dark Mindscape when you guys moved there. Then Virgil was dragged out of my head and forced into the Light Mindscape, like, three years before I started making the _Sanders Sides_ videos. You were all super close and kept in touch until Virgil ducked out. After about a week, me and the other Light Sides went into his Mindscape and got him to come back. 

“When he went back to the Dark Mindscape to tell you guys that he was accepted, you were angry because you thought he had abandoned you for the Light Sides, but _Virgil_ thought you were angry because he had ducked out. Then he was kicked out completely. That sound about right?”

Silence.

Deceit cleared his throat. “Yes, that seems like an accurate summary.”

Virgil shook his head in disbelief. “You guys _seriously_ thought I would just abandon you for the _Light Sides_? The same Light Sides who we all thought hated my guts?”

The Duke scratched the back of his head, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “You were gone all week,” he mumbled, his voice unusually soft. “Your room was locked and we couldn’t summon you, and you never go to your Mindscape because it freaks you out so much. When Janus went to investigate, he saw you hanging out with the Light Sides, and…well, I guess we all panicked.”

Virgil’s heart squeezed painfully, his vision blurring. “So, you—you don’t—” _You don’t still hate me?_

Serenity—no, _Remy_ —seemed to understand the gist, wrapping his arms around Virgil once more. “Gurl,” he said softly. “We never really hated you.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Virgil tightened his grip on Remy and buried his face in his shoulder, shaking violently with the force of his sobs. A moment later, he felt Janus and Remus join in the hug, clinging to him just as tightly as he was to Remy. He could hear Thomas fumbling around in the kitchen, likely to give the Dark Sides some semblance of privacy, and he felt a faint pang of appreciation for his Manifestor.

They were not okay. But…they would be. 

_Nothing will come between us. Now and forever._

* * *

“So…” Thomas finally spoke up, half an hour later. “Not that this isn’t all very heartwarming, but, well—what are we going to do about the Light Sides? When Virgil ducked out, I wasn’t able to feel any anxiety at all. Living without any logic, morality, or cre—well, PG creativity—doesn’t sound like a very good life. Also, this is kinda off topic, but, uh…no offense, who are you?”

At the last question, Janus followed Thomas’s gaze to see him staring at Remy, the only one of them still holding Virgil, albeit in a looser grip. 

Ah, right. He had accidentally forced Remy to meet their Host without his consent. 

Janus winced, an expression of guilt on his face. “Thomas, meet Serenity—”

“Remy is fine,” Remy cut in with a shrug, shifting so that he was holding Virgil in a one-armed hug as he angled himself toward Thomas. “He already heard my title and both of my names during Vee’s little flashback-explanation thingie, anyway. And you better not dare apologize, Virgil”—Virgil shut his mouth with a snap—“it’s water under the bridge.”

Thomas furrowed his brow. “Are you sure? I can just use your title until—”

“Nah, it’s cool, babe. Just—remember that the knock-off version of me Roman had you make? _Sleep_ , I think he named it? Yeah, I’m the original. And for the record, I came up with the name _Remy_ before that character was even made!” Remy finished his speech with a pout and the crossing of his arms.

Thomas chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Back to the issue of the Light Sides,” Janus interrupted smoothly. “Virgil, when you ducked out, you only used the information you heard me relating to Remus, correct?”

Virgil nodded.

“And Thomas, you and the Light Sides could not communicate with him until you entered his Mindscape?”

Thomas hummed in the affirmative.

Janus grinned devilishly, the makings of a plan beginning to piece itself together in his mind. “In that case, I… _might_ have an idea.”

Remus leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Well, don’t leave us in suspense! Spill the beans!”

Janus stood up and began to pace around the room. “Virgil might have figured this out on his own, but he missed a critical step in the ducking out process.”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Patton told me the same thing, but he wouldn't tell me _what_ I missed. Said it was for safety measures.”

“Lotta good that did in the end,” Remy muttered under his breath.

Janus shot the younger a disapproving stare. “It was a smart move on his part, even if it did not prevent the current situation. Granted, I don’t think _anything_ could’ve prevented the current situation, except for _maybe_ some better communication skills.”

“Okay, back on topic, what does Virgil missing a step in ducking out have to do with anything?” Thomas asked.

“Virgil, you gathered your belongings and vanished the door, right?” Janus asked, nodding in his direction.

Virgil blinked but slowly nodded back. “Yes…?” His voice trailed off in the end as though he was asking a question.

“So would I be correct in assuming that you locked your room, but not your Mindscape?”

A slow nod.

Janus smiled. “The only reason that locking a bedroom door is required to duck out is because it is a prerequisite to actually vanishing the door. However, it is the act of vanishing the door _specifically_ that cuts both the bedroom and the Mindscape off from Thomas. When the bedroom door is vanished, the room itself is still in the same location—the only difference is that it is inaccessible.”

Four confused faces stared back at him. 

“Yeah, no one knows where you’re going with this,” Remus said. 

Janus rolled his eyes. “Despite the fact that the door was gone, his Mindscape and his room were still present, and the Light Sides were able to enter Virgil’s Mindscape because he forgot to lock it.”

Virgil coughed. “So that’s great, but what does that have to do with now?”

Janus facepalmed, fully exasperated with the others. “We cannot enter their bedrooms or their Mindscapes because they are all locked. However, their bedrooms are still connected to the Light Mindscape. Theoretically, if we could create our own entrances…”

“We could get them back!” Virgil finished for him, jumping to his feet. “Oh, my—that could actually work!”

Thomas was grinning now. “So, wait—all we need to do is make new doors to their rooms?”

“How would that even work?” Remy asked.

Janus smirked, his eyes beginning to glow faintly as he stopped in front of Remus. “That’s where the Duke comes in.”

* * *

Remus shifted from foot to foot, one palm pressed against a navy-colored door. Several constellations were painted and labeled neatly in white, standing stark against the dark background. He found himself scanning each picture, trying to identify the ones Logan had taught him. 

Yes, Remus was procrastinating—he held no illusions that he was doing anything else.

It was just….

The Dark Sides notwithstanding, Logan was his best friend. The two of them may not have interacted often, but when they did, they were as inseparable as bread and mold. Remus knew how often Logan was ignored and shoved aside by the other Light Sides, so he did his best to make him feel heard, even if that meant letting him infodump for hours—not that Remus particularly minded listening. 

Meanwhile, Logan listened to all of the ideas that Remus put out, no matter how wild or gruesome they were. The two of them would sometimes use Remus’s side of the Imagination to experiment with some of his ideas—and best of all, Logan took the whole process seriously. He went the whole nine yards—scientific method, proper lab equipment, data notebooks….

_Everything._

During their first interaction—the first time Remus had answered an accidental summons from the Light Sides, which was not long after Virgil had met Thomas—Logan immediately apologized for his past actions toward the Dark Sides. It may have been small, but it was also more than Remus had expected from any of the Light Sides, especially the one with the least amount of involvement in the second Split.

Logan was his friend. A very, _very_ good friend.

But now? 

Now he was gone.

Initially, Remus had not felt the emotional backlash of the situation—not like Janus, Virgil, and Thomas had. But at that moment, standing outside the familiar dark blue door, the pain hit him at full force, driving itself into his heart like a wooden stake.

What had driven Logan to do something so—so _illogical_? If he was so upset by the actions of the other Light Sides—if things had truly gotten that _bad_ —why hadn’t he said something? Why hadn’t he told Remus how much he was hurting?

_Why didn’t I notice?_

Even more jarring was the fact that it was more than just Logan—Patton and Roman were apparently just as bad. And sure, Remus may not have liked either of them, but he was not _heartless_! Roman was still his brother! He could have _helped_ him! He could have helped _both_ of them!

_But detecting their dark thoughts was supposed to be your job, remember?_

Remus swallowed hard. As much as he hated to admit it, the sad truth was that his mind was correct. He should have sensed their darker thoughts. He should have figured out that they were going to do something drastic, and he should have _stopped_ them.

_Fucking shit._

Remus could have stopped the Light Sides from ducking out, but had he failed.

Just like he had failed Virgil.

So he could not— _would_ not—fail again.

Remus took a deep breath. The other Sides were waiting in the real world, as per his request. He did not think that he would be able to handle failing in front of the others—especially not in front of Virgil and Thomas.

Sure, Virgil had made up with them, but that did little to repair the extensive damage that had been done to their relationship. True amends would take time and patience, something none of them could afford at the moment. For now, the closest Remus could do was help his younger brother get the Light Sides back—he owed him as much, anyway.

As for Thomas—the Manifestor hated him. As much as he did not want to admit it, Remus would not lie, not even to himself. He held no misconceptions when it came to how Thomas felt about him, and frankly, he did not blame him.

But maybe—just _maybe_ —this would change things.

Remus closed his eyes, focusing on the instructions that Janus had given him.

_“When making a door vanish, you need to take the energy you would normally use to sink out and…well, push it into the door, so to speak. When making a door appear, you must do the same thing, but with the energy you would normally use to rise up.”_

_“But what good will that do?”_

_“Making a new entrance to the room is far more complicated than simply conjuring a door. There is already a door in the Light Mindscape. Your job is to reconnect the door to the room. As Creativity, you should be able to form a connection.”_

In theory, it was easy. Remus just needed to push out the energy and simultaneously imagine a door forming inside Logan’s room. It made perfect sense—

In theory.

And apparently, _only_ in theory, because now, Remus was pushing with all his might; practically shoving his energy toward the door. It reminded him of one of those cheesy cartoons—the ones where the hero and the villain would fight with beams of magical energy, pushing and shoving and neither backing down. 

_Unfortunately,_ Remus remembered just a moment too late, _sometimes the villain wins._

A connection had slowly begun to form between the door and Logan’s bedroom, but suddenly—

Suddenly there was nothing.

_Well, shit._

The connection snapped and Remus was thrown against the wall from the backlash, landing with a hard thump. Panting, he rose on unsteady feet and stared at the dark blue door in disbelief. It was almost as though a wall had appeared behind it—a wall preventing the energy from reaching Logan.

Just his luck.

It really was too good to be true.

* * *

Virgil blinked back tears and glared at the ceiling.

It was official—today was the single most tiring day he had experienced since the Dark Sides had kicked him out.

Or apparently, since the day of their misunderstanding. 

Frankly, he had no idea how he was supposed to feel about that. Virgil had spent the first few weeks after his acceptance nursing his wounds—the Light Sides would ask why he never visited the others, but they quickly caught on to his adamant refusal to speak of the topic. Deep down, however, he had missed his family so, _so_ much. Had loathed himself for not telling them about his plans.

For leaving them behind.

Virgil built a bandage of anger over his wound, and he wore that anger like a badge. He refused to speak about or even _think_ about the Dark Sides, because that would mean facing the reality of the situation.

And it hurt way too much for him to do that.

But now, apparently, the whole thing had been a _fucking misunderstanding_.

That was especially hard to swallow. Virgil had spent so much time silently consumed by his own anger toward the Dark Sides—his own bitterness, pain, and self-loathing—that now, trying to reconcile the mentality he had created with the family he had once known….

It was downright _painful_.

Virgil wanted to forgive them and move forward— _goodness_ , he wanted to do that so badly, but he could not just let go of the anger. The Dark Sides—the same ones who had promised to never leave his side—had kicked him out. Misunderstanding or not, they cut him out of the picture without so much as a warning. Without asking for his side of the story. 

He wanted to forgive them, but the pain was way too much.

And…

_…what would the Light Sides think of it?_

At this point, they were just as much his family, and he did not want them to think that he had just—had just _replaced_ them while they were gone. On top of that, there was also the issue of how he had blown up at Janus, immediately blaming him for what the Light Sides had done.

Once again, he had blamed someone else for his own mistakes.

Ducking out was never a simple decision. Even if Janus had been the final straw, he did nothing to drive them to that point. No—that was on _Virgil_.

Every time he shut Logan up.

Every time he ridiculed Roman.

Every time he brushed off Patton’s affection.

Virgil had been an ungrateful _brat_ —a pessimist who had tried and failed to keep every family he came into contact with. Once again, he had destroyed the very people who cared about him—

_And now they’re never coming back._

_This is all my fault._

_What’ve I done?_

_What’ve I_ done _?!_

Virgil blinked, his eyes burning fiercely. He suddenly became aware of the fact that he was shivering and able to hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

_Fucking shit—_

Okay. Okay, fuck. He had to stay calm. Normally, when he panicked, who would he go to? 

_Patton._

_Logan._

_Roman._

Oh.

That may have been a _slight_ issue.

But who else was there? Thomas was asleep, and….

Virgil hesitated. Once Remus had returned with the disappointing news, the Sides returned to the Mindscape to give Thomas some time to himself. Virgil had been invited to spend the rest of the evening with the Dark Sides, but he declined as politely as possible, still slightly in shock by all that had happened. But maybe…just _maybe_ , they were still awake.

Realizing that his two options were spiraling into an anxiety attack or calling for help, Virgil clung to his blanket and sunk out to the common area of the Dark Mindscape. He found himself in a dark room, the faint figures of Remus and Remy on the floor a few feet away, curled up together and asleep. _Huh. Apparently more time had passed than I thought._

But if they were asleep, then where was—

“Virgil?”

_“What the everloving fuck—”_ Virgil hissed, barely managing to keep his voice down to a whisper as he spun around. Janus was staring at him from the kitchen, blinking owlishly as steam rose steadily from the yellow mug he was holding.

“Virgil?” he repeated, his expression confused. The Side in question felt his heart pound faster as he grew lightheaded. Was he supposed to be here? What if he had misunderstood the invitation that Janus had given him? What if he was imposing himself on them? Wh—

“Hey I’m sorry for showing up but you said I could come and I don’t know what else—”

_“Virgil.”_ Janus said his name firmly, crossing the room and placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “Virgil, I extended the invitation because I wanted to. I am proud of you for coming here.” He gave the younger a smile, rubbing circles on his shoulder with his thumb.

Virgil nodded, taking a deep breath through his nose, the presence of his oldest brother soothing him in a way it had not in so long. “Okay. Yeah.”

Janus smiled, and Virgil returned it weakly.

_Now and forever._


	8. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan reflects on his history with Remus. Virgil and Remy talk about the Light Sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: FOOD MENTION, DEREALIZATION, SELF-HATRED
> 
> Chapter Theme Song: Faded by Alan Walker; Dark on Me by Starset
> 
> I am not dead! Apologies for the long wait, though. I have been working on all my stories, both fanfiction and original, over the last few months, but a lack of time and an increase in writer's block have made it difficult, to say the least. However, I wish to thank you all for your patience and kind comments. Without further ado, enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Also, this time, I highly recommend listening to the chapter theme songs.

Janus sighed as he stared absentmindedly into the darkness. Even without light, his snake eye could clearly make out the three warm-colored figures of his brothers. It was a comforting sight—this was the first time in years that the four of them were able to enjoy something as simple as a sleepover together, but some things never changed.

The circumstances may have been far more dire than those of the past, but the familiar feeling of _togetherness_ was exactly the same. Even if it was almost completely obscured by undiluted shame.

The plan—the only idea that Janus had been able to put together—had completely failed, and now, the Light Sides had officially been gone for over twenty-four hours. It was almost as though a clock was ticking in the background, marking every wasted second. Every moment closer to Thomas losing all sense of logic, morality, and lighthearted creativity. Losing one Side was bad enough, but losing three?

_Walking disaster_ would be the best-case scenario.

Should worst come to worst—should the entire week pass without the return of Light Sides—Janus had no idea what they would do. He could only hope that it would not come to that. 

_How did they fall so far?_ Janus asked himself once more. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes in an attempt to quash the familiar feelings of inadequacy, but he knew that the attempt was futile. The situation was already bringing out every insecurity he tried to keep hidden, and now, after finding out that the Dark Sides had nearly pushed Virgil to the point of no return?

_What did I do?_

_How could I have been so_ cruel _?!_

As the oldest of the Dark Sides, it was his job to look after the others. It was his job to protect them.

As Deceit—as half of Self-Preservation—it was his job to keep not just Thomas, but the other Sides psychologically and emotionally safe. Also physically, to a degree, but that was mostly Virgil’s domain.

As Janus, it was his job to help Thomas.

And what had he done instead?

He had royally _fucked up_.

Janus curled in on himself more, pulling the blanket tight around his shoulders. He had been the one to hurt Virgil. His youngest brother—the baby of the Mindscape—had not trusted Janus enough to come to him when he needed it most. If not for the miscommunication about the ducking out process, Janus would never be able to see him again.

The very thought—it was like being doused with frigid water. It scared him, much more than he wanted to admit to himself.

How had Virgil forgiven him—forgiven _any_ of them so easily? Yes, things were still far from perfect, but Virgil held no malice toward the Dark Sides, despite the fact that he had every right to.

Did any of them deserve it?

Did _he_ deserve it?

Janus did not think so.

_Of_ course _you don’t,_ his mind not-so-helpfully supplied. _After you let him duck out? After you let all the_ others _duck out?_

Janus bit his lip and lowered his gaze.

_I didn’t think so._

Patton, he could have stopped. Janus had spoken to him just _moments_ before he left. He had _known_ that something was wrong.

But instead, he had let Patton walk away.

With the other two, he should have picked up on their emotions. When Roman sank out, the expression on his face had been so bitter; so _dark_ —how the hell had Janus not noticed that something much worse was at play? And Logan—Janus _knew_ he was struggling. Calm, collected Logan, who had all but snapped at them. Janus had just let him go, not even offering an apology.

Now, he would never be able to apologize. The irony was just _beautiful_.

Janus had had one plan, but it had failed. He was the oldest, but he had let everyone down when it mattered the most.

_If you can’t even protect the other Sides, then who are you to try and protect Thomas?_

* * *

Logan felt…nothing.

This was not completely new. It happened whenever he spent too much time thinking; too much time with only his thoughts for company. A deep exhaustion would settle in his bones and the everything around him would begin to feel… _off_ , almost as though it was only a dream. His mind would begin racing and his body would slow, practically trapping him inside his own head.

This odd sense of unreality was one of his motives behind doing much of his work in the common area, as opposed to staying alone in his room. Watching Patton bake, listening to Roman sing, and sitting with Virgil while he listened to music—it was peaceful. Grounding. His feelings may have been muted as ever, but at least they were _there_. Anything was better than the all-consuming emptiness.

Being alone, while something he enjoyed, could be dangerous for him. Being around others was helpful. Healthy, even.

Perhaps…perhaps ducking out had not been the best idea.

He had been feeling so…so _numb_ after the incident, he had not considered the full consequences of what he was doing. Logan understood the thought process behind his actions, but…were there not alternative paths he could have chosen? Something less severe? A lifestyle change, perhaps?

Maybe the other Light Sides would not have listened. Maybe he would have been scorned again; silenced again. But the Light Sides were not the only people in the Mindscape. Had he gone to Remus for help—had he told him about everything he preferred to repress—would he have been given help? Advice?

If he was so desperate to get away, could he have asked Remus for an escape? Instead of ducking out, could he simply have locked himself in his room? Would Remus have checked on him?

Logan thought back to the day of the trial. After the video was over, Deceit had come by to check on him, confronting him about his so-called emotions. Logan had shrugged off his inquiries until Deceit finally sunk out, leaving with a warning about the consequences of bottling emotions. 

The look on his face had been almost…disappointed. Disappointed in Logan.

Less than a minute later, Remus had appeared, surveying his expression for all of three seconds before sinking out again. An hour later, he returned with a large chocolate sheet cake that had a picture of the periodic table frosted on top.

_“C’mon, nerd,”_ Remus had laughed, dragging Logan to his feet. _“Dee said you were upset, so I’m here to turn that frowny upside-downy!”_ He went on to cut them each a generous slice of cake, insisting that, _“Chocolate makes your brain release dopamine—you know, the happy hormone! In other words, eat your damn cake, Logan.”_ He then conjured a blanket fort and put on a documentary about deep sea animals, sitting with Logan and watching the video with just as much interest as Logan himself. 

That day, Logan felt thrill and excitement—and _happiness_ —penetrate his mind for the first time in ages. 

Remus had always had that effect on him.

_But now you left him behind with nothing more than a note._

Logan swallowed. _He still has his_ actual _family—_

_He_ cares _about you. Remus cares about you, but you left him behind._

Sighing, Logan closed his eyes and leaned back against his headboard. He was alone. He had made his own figurative bed, and now he had to lie in it.

But he was jerked from his thoughts when he felt his room start to pulse with a familiar energy.

Snapping his eyes open, Logan scanned the room for any sign of irregularity, his eyes settling on the door when he realized it was glowing. Glowing _green_.

Memories rushed toward him as he reached out a hand— _when had he gotten up?_ —and touched the green light.

_A young boy, dressed in a black shirt and green overalls, proudly displaying the small octopus in his hands._

_A young man, smirking and raising an eyebrow as he cracked yet another inappropriate joke._

_Two men standing over a beaker full of a bubbling violet substance, their faces full of wonder._

_Swimming with a giant squid._

_Trying to bake a healthy version of chocolate cake._

_Discussing the idea of quark stars._

“Remus—” Logan gasped out. Remus was—trying to enter his room?

Remus had already noticed he was gone?

Did…Remus _miss_ him?

Thunderstruck, Logan abruptly realized that he felt…light. For all his vocabulary, he had no other way to describe it. It was as though he suddenly weighed a thousand pounds less, even though he knew that it was impossible. He was completely grounded, but his surroundings looked so much…brighter. His mouth was involuntarily curling upward and—

_Oh._

Had it really been so long since he had experienced real, true happiness that it came as a shock? That it was unrecognizable?

…Was it bad that he wanted more of it?

Logan took a deep breath, reaching out for the door. His hand hovered just over where the knob used to be, and he felt his fingers twitch as he drew in his own energy—

Only for the connection to cut off beneath his fingertips.

With all the force of a speeding bus, Logan was thrown back into his previous state—empty. The happiness drained out of him, almost as though it had been sucked up by a vacuum.

_That’s impossible. Vacuums cannot consume intangible objects._

What had happened to Remus? Why had he left? 

…Had he decided that Logan was not worth coming after?

Logan swallowed. _Fact—you left Remus with only a note. Fact—Remus tried to enter your room. Fact—Remus suddenly cut off the connection._

_Conclusion—Remus does not really care._

A part of his mind screamed that it was a cognitive distortion; that his own thought process was faulty.

But there was a possibility that it was not.

And that possibility was far too painful to risk.

Logan sank back onto his bed, for once not protesting as his mind drifted off.

* * *

Virgil did not consider himself an early riser. Back with the Dark Sides, Janus had always been the first one to awaken, followed closely by Remus. Virgil and Remy, on the other hand, rarely left their rooms before ten. With the Light Sides, he gained some sense of discipline, but even then, Virgil was practically a zombie until lunchtime. 

However, when he opened his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of…calm. No chaos—a true rarity in the Dark Mindscape.

“Good morning.”

Virgil hissed and nearly leapt out of his skin as Remy laughed at his reaction. “Sorry about that, Vee,” he said softly, not sounding sorry at all. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Yeah, well…do it again and I’ll clip your wings,” Virgil fired back lamely, the threat falling flat. His mind was already drifting off. While he was filled with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia at being back in his old home, it was stampeded by the regret of the previous two days, hitting him full force. _Why are you even feeling this way? Out of absolutely nowhere?_

_Stupid big baby._

“How’re you feeling, hun?” Remy asked him, brows furrowing when Virgil physically jerked at the sound of his voice. 

“I…” Virgil swallowed. “I…don’t know.”

Remy clicked his tongue sympathetically. “You wanna help me make breakfast and talk about it?”

_I don’t know._ “Sure.”

_If you had only done a better job of_ talking _to the Light Sides. Maybe then, you would be having breakfast with_ them _instead._

_Remember how you and Logan made pancakes for everyone on Saturdays?_

_Remember how Roman made you breakfast in bed on bad days?_

_Remember how you walked in on Patton teaching Logan how to cook in the middle of the night—not just once, but several times?_

Virgil winced and pinched the bridge of his nose, not noticing how Remy’s frown deepened. 

_Remember how Patton would cook you all pasta whenever—_

“The pasta!” Virgil yelped. Both he and Remy winced at the sudden volume, quickly checking behind them to make sure Janus and Remus were still asleep.

“What was that about?” Remy replied a moment later, voice much quieter than before.

“Patton”—if Remy noticed the way his voice cracked on the name, he was kind enough to not say anything about it—“made pasta before…before he…you know.” Remy nodded for Virgil to continue. “He also left a note saying to share it with you guys. I only ate a little bit before I realized that…” His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat. “Do you want to go get it?”

Remy shrugged. “If you’re cool with it, then sure, why not? I’d never turn down pasta.” 

The two of them sunk out into the Light Mindscape, the sight of it giving Virgil pause. “It looks…so much cleaner than yesterday.”

“Remus and I tried to clean up. Jay summoned us before we could finish, though.”

“Right,” Virgil muttered. “Um, I guess I’ll get the pasta and you can…do whatever?”

“I’ll grab the cleaning supplies we left behind,” Remy said.

“…That works.”

Virgil grabbed the pasta from the fridge, only to pause at the note that had been taped to the top of the box.

_Hey, Kiddos—_

_I made pasta for you guys and the Others. Can one of you drop some off when you see this?_

_Thank you!_

_—Happy Pappy Patton_

A drop of water fell onto the paper, and Virgil realized with a shock that he was crying.

_Stop being such a_ baby _. There’s an actual problem to deal with—a problem that is_ your fault _, no less. This would never be happening if you had been better. If you had_ done _better. You have_ no right _—_

Virgil was shocked out of his stupor by the sound of approaching footsteps.

“I grabbed the cleaning supplies, but I also found something that Logan had left behind for Remus,” Remy said absentmindedly as he entered the kitchen. “Does this book look familiar to yo—oh, honey…”

A hand was suddenly on his shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly as another hand gently lifted his chin. “Vee?” Remy asked gently, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “What happened?”

Virgil opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by a harsh sob. He buried his face in his hands as he started to cry in earnest. He felt Remy drawing him into a hug, rubbing his back and shushing him softly. A heartbeat later and they were sinking out, appearing in a place that felt so familiar, yet so hard to name.

“We’re going to figure this out,” Virgil heard his older brother whisper.

“You…you can’t _actually_ promise that,” he whimpered back, fingers digging into Remy’s black leather jacket as he hid his face in the other’s shoulder. “What if—” he choked on a sob. “What if we can’t get them back? I…I don’t wanna _lose_ them—”

“And you won’t, okay?” Remy rubbed a hand up and down his back. “You don’t have to do this alone, Virgil.”

Virgil sniffled. “Do you think…”

“Go on, Vee,” he encouraged when Virgil hesitated.

“Do you think this is my fault?”

He felt Remy stiffen before tightening the hug. “Sweetie—of _course_ this isn’t your fault.” His voice sounded sad. “Why would you think that?”

“I could have _stopped_ them, Remy!” Virgil exclaimed, choking on his words. “I could have noticed that something was wrong—I _should_ have noticed! But—but I—”

Remy shushed him again, sitting him down on a soft surface. _The couch?_

“I…I know I never really talked to the Light Sides. And…I know that I’ve been pretty biased,” Remy said softly. Seriously. “In all honesty, I still don’t like them. But Virgil—even _I_ can tell how much they care about you, and you about them. If I had to guess, I think they hid their feelings—not just from you, but from each other.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Without the Self Care Snake up their asses about _proper communication_ , they probably tried to keep each other—and you—from getting hurt. But this isn’t your fault, Vee. I promise.”

Virgil didn’t move. He _wanted_ to believe Remy—wanted to believe him so, _so_ much. But….

“It’s okay if you don’t believe me,” Remy told him, almost as though he had read his mind. “Once we bring them back, they can tell you themselves. But…you did nothing wrong, hun.”

Even though he wanted to protest further, Virgil found himself calming down. He wasn’t feeling any happier, but he was feeling…lighter?

_Wait…._

He pulled back from Remy and took in his surroundings, not at all surprised to see a replica of Thomas’s living room, fully furnished with several pillows, beanbags, and blankets. He and Remy were seated on the couch.

“Your Mindscape?” he asked. “Really?”

Remy gave a sheepish grin. “I thought it would help you calm down.” His expression grew serious. “How are you feeling?”

“I…don’t know. Not as terrible?”

A hum. “Better than nothing,” Remy said, standing up. “These things take time, after all. Do you wanna stay here for a little bit longer, or do you wanna go get breakfast ready?”

Virgil chewed his lip. “Is it okay if we get breakfast ready? The distraction seems nice.”

“Sure thing, babe.” Remy grabbed the box of pasta—he must have taken it before leaving the Light Mindscape—and a…yellow book?

The pair appeared in the Dark Mindscape, moving quietly so that they would not wake the other two. “What’s that?” Virgil asked when Remy placed the book on the dining table.

“Not sure. It has a note addressed to Remus, though,” Remy whispered back. “Guess we’ll find out when he wakes up.”

* * *

When the lights flickered for the umpteenth time, Janus was ready to lose it. 

It had been raining on and off for the past week, and the sun was practically a cryptid by this point. Even on the day of Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding, the sky had been dark as night by the time Thomas returned to his apartment, despite it not even being dinnertime.

That had been fine. But now? On top of everything else?

“This is getting _ridiculous_!” Janus exclaimed, slamming his phone down. Virgil and Thomas startled from their spots on the stairs and couch, respectively.

“You…you good, Jay?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow.

_You let this happen._

“We _need_ to find a solution, but this—isn’t—working!” Janus hissed, desperately trying to shove his own thoughts away.

_You could have stopped it._

“Janus?” he heard Thomas asking, his voice sounding as though he were underwater. “Are you okay?”

“Why are you asking _me_ , Thomas?” he replied with a bitter laugh. “I’m _totally_ the one whose life is over if we can’t figure this out. We’re running out of time, but nothing is working!”

“We still have a few days—” Thomas said, trying to sound optimistic, but Janus cut him off. 

“A few days? _A few days_?!” He stood up and threw his hands in the air. “This is _over_! We're _done for_!”

_You failed them._

_If you can’t even protect the other Sides, then who are you to try and protect Thomas?_

And just like that, Janus felt his ire leave him. 

What was the point of it?

_Just stop. You aren’t helping anyone._

Thoroughly exhausted, Janus ignored the concerned questions of Virgil and Thomas and sank out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …To be honest, I forgot how much I enjoyed posting this story.
> 
> If you are one of the people living in Texas right now, I hope you and your families/friends are doing okay. The situation is pretty rough for some people.
> 
> What did you all think of the chapter? Let me know in the comments! Also, if you notice any spelling/grammar errors, or if you have any constructive criticism, please let me know!
> 
> –Bella


End file.
